


You Have Someone That Loves You

by Ciphernetics



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, UST, and a terrible person, background campbell/david in the first chapter, gwen is a great wingwoman, oblivious david, the best kind, with added angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-11-01 11:25:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciphernetics/pseuds/Ciphernetics
Summary: David's personal life isn't any of her business. Who he dates, who he fucks, who he loves-Gwen doesn't care. She doesn't, she doesn't, she doesn't.(Until she does.)(A/N: Last names used created by/belong to Forestwater)





	1. The Status Quo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Forestwater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forestwater/gifts).



> Written for and beta'ed by the lovely Forestwater! This started as half-baked little idea and somehow it grew into this. It's pretty wild. We can all blame Forest and Hope for making this happen. And forest for the last names!

Cameron Campbell arrives at the camp in the usual manner. That is to say, at an inconvenient time, with all the fanfare of a bright yellow SUV, a dashing smile, and David's unfailing admiration.

“Great news, counselors!”

Gwen narrows her eyes sleepily as the man himself steps out of his gaudy car, directing that smarmy gaze around the camp. It's way too early for this. Even the kids aren't up yet, but the second David got the warning that Campbell was on his way there was no sleeping for either of them.

David's hand is digging into her arm where he'd grabbed her in excitement, and she shrugs it off with an annoyed grunt. “Mr. Campbell! What are you doing here, sir?” he practically shouts. Right in Gwen's ear, too. She shuffles to the side slightly.

Campbell chuckles. “Well, what's wrong with stopping in on my favourite camp? It just struck me as I was, uh, playing Russian roulette with some very high-powered… good friends of mine. And, hey, accidents happen, and I needed a getaway!”

David nods solemnly. “I completely understand, sir. Running a country must be so stressful! Of course you'd need to escape to the tranquility of the camp sometimes!”

“Sure, why not?” Cameron slams the car door shut and circles around to pull a dufflebag from the trunk. He pauses, and on second thought yanks the licence plate off and tosses it in the back. Gwen's mild horror goes unnoticed by either men.

“Uh... Sir? You said you had great news,” she reminds him, although her hopes aren't high.

Campbell blinks at her, closing the trunk. “Well, it's me, obviously! I'll be staying for a little while!”

Beside her, David clasps his hands together in awe. “That _is_ great news! Gwen, did you hear that?”

“I was standing right here, so…”

Campbell laughs, loud and booming. “Don't you pay me any mind, Glenda! I'll just be in the background, not interfering with your duties at all! You're free to continue on as usual.”

Translation: _I'm not here to help, so don't expect it._

Campbell stomps cheerily past them, pushing his way into the mess hall with David on his heels like a loyal dog. Reluctantly, Gwen follows, if only to see how much damage is being done to the camp's budget, but this time Campbell doesn't stop at the safe. He yanks the attic door open and disappears up the ladder.

David hangs behind, shifting from side to side.

After a minute, Gwen's lost interest and started preparing a shitty but necessary instant coffee behind the counter. She takes a seat, grabs a magazine from her secret mess-hall stash (hey, sometimes she doesn't wanna walk all the way back to the cabin) and sips at her drink, waiting for her brain to come fully online.

After a few minutes she peers over the top of her magazine. “I don't think he's coming back down anytime soon, y’know.”

David looks over to her. “You think? I just wasn't sure if I should… I mean, he might need something!”

“Correctional behaviour therapy, maybe, but I don't think he needs you hanging around like that,” she mutters, returning to her article- “In The Name of The Daddy, Son and Holy Ghost- 7 Hottest Priests of This Generation”.

David looks thoughtful, but apparently it takes another few minutes to convince him that Campbell's unlikely to return. Eventually he joins her, preparing himself a plastic mug of tea- nice quality stuff, actually. Since he's the only one who drinks it, he buys it himself. That's not to say he wouldn't share it at the drop of a hat, though. If anyone actually wanted it. Although, as much as tea tastes like hot leaf juice to Gwen, she does have to admit something about the smell is nice. Sharp and woodsy, just like the the man who drinks it.

David pulls out his phone and starts flicking through it, scrolling something Gwen can't see. Knowing him, it's… nature photos. Puppies. Guitar tabs. Something equally lame.

Not long after, the kids are due to wake up, and the Quartermaster reappears to begin distribution of the food he and David had already prepared.

Gwen takes the initiative of shoving the ladder to the attic back up there and out of the way. She doesn't need any kids skittering up there again. If Campbell cares, he doesn't give any indication. In fact, he doesn't reappear until well after dinner. The kids are gathered by the lakeside campfire, chatting amongst themselves while the counselors watch over. Gwen's sitting with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, watching the setting sun reflect off the surface of the lake.

The surface that's suddenly rippling. As soon as she notices, David perks up beside her with a gasp. “Guys! It's Mr. Campbell!” He whacks Gwen lightly on the arm, and she hisses, but he doesn't seem to notice. “Oh man! I wonder if he'll wanna come sit with us?”

Gwen glances at the little boat that's heading their way from the island, steered by the Quartermaster and headed by Campbell, standing with his chest puffed out and fists on his hips. She rolls her eyes, too tired to force air out of her lungs in any way that resembles speech. To her great displeasure, David seems to be right.

The boat pulls up next to the rickety wooden pier and Campbell steps off, nearly upsetting the balance of the boat and sending the quartermaster flying. The Quartermaster grumbles something and throws a loop of rope around the leg of the pier as Campbell strides over to the gathering.

“Evening, kiddos!”

As far as welcoming committees go, there's been better than the campers of camp Campbell. Most of the kids watch warily as he approaches, none of them particularly fond of the man. In fact, the only one who still seems happy to see him is, in a _shocking turn of events,_  David.

Cameron takes a seat, on one of the logs, crowding a couple of the campers away. “How goes my favourite band of rascals, huh?”

Gwen rolls her eyes. He says that to every year's group.

“We're better now that you're here, sir!” David chirps, practically vibrating in his seat.  Cameron beams at him.

“Naturally! So, shall we tell some scary stories?”

There's enthusiastic nodding from David and shrugging from a few of the campers. Cameron clears his throat, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. Something chirps, cutting through the night air. Cameron frowns, pulling his phone out and glancing at the screen. “The scary story here, kids, is how little I can trust my deputy PM not to let things fall apart the second I'm away.”

He stands up, putting the phone to his ear and barking something in thai. Someone barks on the other end, and Cameron marches away, diving into a spiel of what seems to be instructions. Gwen looks at David indifferently, and David shrugs back.

“Okay, uh, well! Sorry about that, guys!” He apologises to the group. “I guess Mr. Campbell's got something he needs to take care of! Would anyone else like to tell a story?”

Space kid’s hand shoots up into the air. So does Preston’s, actually, and surprisingly, Nikki’s.

“Alright,” David chuckles, raising his hands. “We'll get to you all! One at a time! Who wants to go first?”

Nikki jumps up to crouch on the log, waving her arm. “Me! David, David, me! I've got a _real good one!"_

“That's great, Nikki! We're listening!”

Nikki clears her throat.

The story she tells isn't half bad, but neither is it really scary- she seems to lose the plot sometimes, trailing off into unrelated tangents the way kids do.

Preston's up next, with a dramatic tale that Gwen's pretty sure he ripped entirely off of Shakespeare, but she doesn't remember which one. She hasn't studied Shakespeare for years. It's not scary, just... Horribly tragic. Maybe too much so, because David looks ready to cry. She figures space kid will fix it, though. Not on purpose- he just tends to be to bumblingly incompetent that sometimes it's hard not to crack a smile.

And by the end of his story, Gwen's severely regretting letting him talk. She's not sure what kind of movies that kid's parents have been letting him watch, but nothing really excuses the level of disturbing gore in what she just heard. The kid had smiled the whole way through, like he was telling a story about a happy little elf instead of a misfit crew trapped in a space station with a murderous shapeshifter. When he's done, the campers are silent, some of them looking a little horrified.

David's watch beeps, cutting through the silence, and he jumps. “Gah! Uh- O-okay, campers, looks like it's… time for bed.”

Max squints at him, and then at space kid.

“...What the _fuck_.”

Gwen silently agrees, and David jumps to his feet. “Come on, let's go! Everyone up!” He herds the kids towards the tents, just a touch higher strung than usual. The group disappears, leaving Gwen alone next to a dying fire. She yawns, trying to gather the energy to get herself up,  when Campbell comes striding back into her radar.

“What happened to the kids?” He asks, looking around.

Gwen peers up at him with disbelief in her squint. “They're in bed. You were gone for an hour and a half, sir.”

He considers. “Was I? Ah, well. Time differences, and all. Pity, that. I suppose that means I'm not needed anymore.”

“Nope.”

“That's fine,” he chuckles, fists on his hips again. Must be a natural pose for the guy by now. “I've got a lot more to take care of, anyway. Do you realise how hard running a dictatorship actually _is_ , Gabby?”

Gwen's indifferent silence doesn't seem to dissuade him from continuing to engage her. “There's so much to take care of, and it's unbelievably frustrating having to work through my idiot of a right hand. As soon as I get back, he's being terminated.”

She hopes that means fired. “Why don't you just go back and deal with it yourself?” _Please, go._

“I'm not an idiot, Greta. This camp is off the Thai maps, and that's very much where I need to be right now.”

Campbell checks his phone again. “Well, I've got people and things to take care of. Do tell Davey goodnight for me, won't you?”

He walks away without waiting for a reply, and Gwen shoots a halfhearted glare at his retreating figure. She swears he's doing the name thing on purpose now. Later, David's disappointed he didn't get the chance to see him, but it turns out he didn't need to worry. He gets plenty of opportunities, because a week passes and Campbell still doesn't _leave_. It starts to get on Gwen's nerves, the way he'll drop in on an activity like god himself and commandeer attention just to waste time. He's happy to soak up praise and dispense old-white-guy wisdom, but the moment any pressure's on him to help out, he's mysteriously busy.

Her one satisfaction is that Cameron seems to be getting antsy, himself. Whatever reason he has for staying at the camp, it's not by choice.

David couldn't be happier, of course. It's like a kid waking up to find santa in the middle of the night, and then santa sticks around for a few weeks ruffling your hair and eating your food. He's at Cam’s heels every opportunity, deferring the moment he shows up. It really irks Gwen, because between Cameron and David, she'd honestly rather just be around David. Not that that's really saying much.

She begins to slip away when Campbell shows up. If David notices, he doesn't seem to mind. The camp runs just fine without her every once in awhile, and to be honest, she kinda feels like she's third-wheeling it around them, in a sense. It's not that she _wants_ their attention, exactly. She's just not exactly a big fan of being pushed aside and ignored by an old white guy who purposely misnames her.  

So that's how it ends up one evening- Cameron has the kids gathered around the campfire, telling a story Gwen's heard a million times before (although each year he tells it, she swears the size of the explosions gets bigger) and she decides to disappear. She slinks back to their cabin, taking the opportunity to indulge herself in a shitty werewolf drama without David's constant “Wait, who’s that? Which one is she in love with? Do you think there's actually werewolves? Once I saw-” until she snaps at him to shut up and watch.

Afterwards, as Gwen's getting ready for bed, a gentle knock at her door interrupts her.

“Yeah?” She calls out. David's muffled response comes through the door.

“Are you decent? I'd like to ask you something.”

“Yeah, sure. Come in.”

David slips inside, shutting the door behind him. He's still in his uniform, which is a little strange for this time of night. Campbell must have kept him pretty late. Usually, the man thrives on a schedule, and by now he'd usually be in his lame bear print or forest print or- whatever other lame pyjamas. She turns halfway towards him, waiting for him to say whatever it is he needs to say. David takes a deep, slow breath and looks down at the floor.

“Gwen, can I ask you something… really personal? I- I mean, I need your help with something, and it's something really… I'm just not sure who else I could talk to.”

Gwen yawns, tugging her ponytail free of its hairband. “What's up?”

David fidgets, his mouth twisting anxiously. “W-well, it's… you know, about- dating. Kinda.”

Gwen looks at him, brushing her fingers through her hair to try and straighten out the kinks. “ _You’ve_ got a question about dating?”

“Well, um.” David hesitates, looking away. “It's kind of a- an adult question.”

Well, now her attention is snagged. She smirks. “ _Really?_ Wow.”

David takes a seat on her bed and covers his reddening face with his hands. “I was talking to Mr. Campbell, after the kids were in bed, and- and somehow the topic got onto, um, partners, and then-” he takes a deep breath, and the rest of his sentence tumbles out in a rush. “He invited me to come visit him tonight. I-in his house on the lake.”

Gwen has to pause and decipher that, let the meaning soak in.

“Wait. You got _booty called_ by our _boss_?”

David squeaks like she'd just said the filthiest thing possible and his shoulders hunch slightly. Once the shock has worn off, Gwen begins to laugh.

“Oh my god.”

“What should I _do_ , Gwen? I really don't want to let Mr. Campbell down. And I…” David trails off, and Gwen raises an eyebrow.

“Well, do you wanna or not?”

David bites his lip and after a moment's hesitation he nods, staring at the floor. The poor guy's face is already beginning to look red as hell, and Gwen's willing to bet he's never had a conversation like this. He didn't have any sisters, as far as she knew, so it's kinda her job to step up to the plate, isn't it?

She sits down on the bed beside him, scooching up against the headboard. “So do it.”

David gives an awkward little half shrug. “It's just… I'm nervous. I've never done that before,” he quietly admits.

“What, casual sex? Sleeping with a boss?”

David shakes his head. “W-well, no. Any of it, really.”

Oh. Wait. “Have you ever fucked _anyone_ , or…?”

David looks away, and Gwen has her answer. “Huh. Wow. I mean, I kinda guessed, but… hell of a first time, David.”

“I know! But- Gwen, how can I turn this down?” David turns to her with a pleading expression, like he's begging her to understand. “Mr. Campbell really- he never- what if I say I'm not ready and he doesn't want to wait? And if I lose this chance…” he ducks his head, his eyes shamefully lowered.

Gwen nudges his side with her knee. “Look, I get it. And… I'm gonna be honest, David, it doesn't really sound like a good idea. Sorry. I mean, why would he just invite you out of the the blue like that? Also, this is your first time, and when you do that you should really do it with someone special,” she sighs, a note of bitterness to her voice. “Or else you're gonna spend the rest of your life feeling shitty about it. Trust me.”

David looks at her, curiosity in his eyes. He opens his mouth to ask something but instead he just shuts it again.

“I don't want to lose this chance,” he repeats quietly, looking out the window. Behind the faint ghost of his own reflection, the moonlight dusts the tips of the trees with silver. It feels like he's on a time limit, the window of opportunity getting smaller and smaller.

Gwen shrugs. “I'm not gonna tell you what to do. I just want to make sure you know what you're doing.”

David intertwines his fingers together in his lap. “I think…” he trails off, leaving the thought unfinished.

"I know men like him, David. He'll fuck you, boot you outta the bed and tell you to close the door on your way out. That's just a harsh reality and I need to know you're prepared for that."

"I... I know Mr. Campbell isn't really the type to settle down. I wouldn't expect him to. It's okay."

Gwen sighs, putting down her hairbrush. "Why do you want to do this? You _know_ it's not going to be a big happy ending. You can do better."

David tilts his his head towards the ceiling, and it's a little harder for Gwen to see the look on his face. "I want to," he mumbles. Gwen sighs again.

"I know, but- why?"

"It's _Mr. Campbell,_ " David insists weakly, like that's all he needs to say. "Ever since I was little, I..." He trails off.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Gwen mutters, picking long dark hairs from her brush. "He's your big boy wet dream, I know." David makes a despairing squeak, covering his face with his hands. "I guess I can't stop you. But when you get your dumb heart broken-"

Gwen's about to say "don't come crying back to me", but the look on David's face... He looks so vulnerable. And it's not like she's perfect. She's gone back to way too many exes who said things were different and they never were, and a part of her always knew that. It would've been nice to have someone welcome her back without the petty "I told you so"s.

"Just come back here and we'll get you cleaned up, okay?" She doesn't look up, and maybe that's what gives David the courage to say something.

"Thank you."

  


Quartermaster is already waiting by the boat when David leaves. Gwen watches him go. He looks nervous, a little backpack of clothes and toiletries by his feet and a lot of apprehensively-given but _explicitly_ helpful advice in his head. He climbs into the boat and sits, delicately folding his hands in his lap almost girlishly. It's cute.

Gwen gives him a wave and heads back to the cabin, too tired to stay longer. When she's out of sight, David turns his attention to the reflection of the moon on the lake.

"We goin'?" Quartermaster grunts. David nods.

"Yes, please. Thank you, Quartermaster."

The little engine splutters to life and the boat leaves shore.

 

At fuck’o'clock in the morning- Gwen's not sure, but the sun isn't up and that means it's Too Early- David slips back into the cabin. She would've slept through it, but he tripped over something in the dark.

Her first thought is that a camper is looking for help. And since David's not here, apparently that responsibility falls to her.

She flicks on her lamp and opens the door. "David? What time is it?" she grumbles, rubbing at her eyes.

"Um, 5:26," David answers. "I'm sorry for waking you up!"

"Well, I'm awake now. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"It's almost 5:30! I- I needed to turn my alarm off, so it wouldn't wake you?"

"David." Gwen gives him a look. "Why are you back? What happened?"

"Oh. Well..." David looks away, biting his lip to try and stifle his grin. Gwen would know that look anywhere.

"Never mind. I don't wanna know."

David smiles, gathering himself up and standing up on unsteady legs. "Sorry, again! For waking you, I mean!"

"I'm surprised you didn't sleep there, honestly," she comments, brushing her bedraggled hair out of her face.

"Oh, I did! But Cam said- Mr. Campbell said he needed to leave before I woke up, anyway, so I knew it wouldn't bother him if I left early."

Cam, huh? That's awfully... familiar. A cold feeling coils in her stomach.

"So..." She clears her throat. "How... was he?"

She expected a little innocent floundering, maybe a “how was what? O-oh.” But no, David's face immediately flushes red and he looks away, a smile on his face. "Uh... Well..." He fidgets with his hands. "I- well, it..." He trails off in a nervous laugh.

"I've told you tons of stories," Gwen quietly points out, "so if you're worried about TMI..."

David runs a hand through his hair. "W-well..." He sighs happily. "Gosh, it was amazing. He's so... _good at it,_  Gwen."

Gwen refrains from making a noise of disgust.

"I've never- it just- he-" David makes a flustered noise, hiding his smile behind a hand. "I'm sorry, it's really embarrassing. But I'm glad I went." He steps forward, wrapping her in a hug she wasn't expecting, and she tenses up slightly. He smells faintly of sweat and sickeningly familiar cologne. "Thank you, Gwen."

"It's whatever. Sounds like it could've gone a lot worse, so I'm… happy for you, I guess." She endures his hug for a moment longer. She has one more question she kinda wants to ask, and she lowers her voice. "You don't have to answer, but just out of curiosity... is he as big as he acts?"

David pauses, then smiles sheepishly, turning his head away. "...Yeah."

Fucker. Of course he is. All that and a big dick too.

"Alright," Gwen sighs, pushing him away gently, "that's more than I ever thought I'd know about my boss. I'm going back to bed, okay? You can shower if you wanna, I'll put earplugs in."

David holds her hands tenderly, his expression earnest. "Thank you, Gwen. You're my best friend, you know?"

"Right."

She turns away, back to her room, closing the door behind her. His best friend. She, a bitter, unfunny, unloving girl trapped in the woods. She's his best friend.

And isn't that just sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never expected this to get as long as it already is. This is just one of at least ten already-written chapters, and boyyyy do I hope you guys like it!
> 
> I'm a whore for comments and have no shame about begging. Feed me, Seymour


	2. Saviour Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen doesn't have a very long fuse to begin with.

Over the next week, David's... different. A little more _up_ than usual, which is saying something. Even Max can't seem to get to him, despite leaving a small snake curled up in his bed or the "peanut butter window" incident. David just laughs it off, his smile glowing, and it crawls under Gwen's skin and makes her itch.

By Thursday, she's nearly ready to strangle him if he doesn't stop being so bubbly.

And that night, she gets her wish.

They're hanging out in the living room of their cabin, Gwen sprawled over her chair reading a trashy romance while David watches something that she suspects is _Anne of Green Gables_ but she's not sure because why the fuck would she know? Whatever it is, there's a cheery little freckled redhead, so it's probably right up his alley.

David's phone sings out, the twanging little opening notes to his tune alerting him to a text. He unlocks it, and Gwen peers over the top of her book.

His face... changes. Just a bit. He doesn't exactly break into tears, but his smile falls, just a touch.

"What's up?" she asks, nudging his shoulder with her foot.

He plasters on his regular smile and looks up. "Oh, nothing. Mr. Campbell won't be visiting this weekend, after all. Something about a... political assassination?" he explains, frowning.

"Is he doing one or did someone try to off him?"

"He's probably just going to save someone." David smiles, waving any other implications away. Mr. Campbell can do no wrong.

"I'm loudly doubting that, but okay." Gwen shrugs. She flips the page of her book and settles back into the rhythm of reading.

David looks at his phone for a minute longer, as if another text is going to show up and save the day. "Nevermind, Davey, looks like I'll be there after all!"

But... Nothing.

Well, David knows he's busy. Mr. Campbell has a lot on his plate, running a summer camp as well as a country and maybe a few other things. Of course he can't take every weekend to visit. "Maybe another time," he mumbles to himself, keeping his smile. It's fine. It's really fine.

He puts his phone down and returns his attention to the tiny little CRT in front of him.

Gwen peeks over the top of her book, just for a moment. David looks... Okay. She thinks. But she should really keep an eye on this. For her own sake, really. If David starts crying all over the place, this hellhole will be even more unbearable than it already is.

 

David's back to his normal self after that, and Gwen never thought she'd say it, but it's a little weird. And definitely not a good sign. But as long as he doesn't actually start getting worse, it's okay, right? This is just the status quo. This is how it should be.

 

Another week passes like that, the camp carried on David's back as it usually is. He's what keeps this place running, keeps it tolerable. But when the weekend arrives and there's no sign of the founder, text or otherwise, his smile starts to falter.

Gwen wants to say it. She wants to grab him by the shoulders and say "I fucking told you so, you idiot."

But she doesn't.

Instead, when David just keeps repeating "Maybe another time", she knocks her shoulder lightly against his and tells him she thinks he's right.

Maybe she should steal David's phone and get Campbell's number. Like that would work- he probably uses a burner phone every time he texts. The man's a professional, after all.

She just wants to call him and tell him... what? What is she going to have to say that Cameron Campbell would actually listen to? "You broke David's heart because you're a selfish prick and you should come back here and fix it?" She knows from experience that if you confront a guy with something like that, they'll turn tail and run. Besides, how can he fix it? David's too... gentle. He's not built for one night stands. His heart can't take it and she _knew,_  she could _see_ it but he still went ahead and did it.

Men are idiots, Gwen reminds herself.

She's never considered herself psychic (or psychics a real thing), but Gwen's pretty confident that Cameron's not going to show up out of the blue and propose. He's not going to settle down with his fling/employee in some shitty camp in the middle of a shitty forest surrounded by a shitty town.

And every single time she tries to get the courage to tell David that, she backs out. He's too soft. He'll cry, and he'll deny it, and she can't handle it, she just can't.

But she's getting desperate.

Her David's fading away- the David who gets up early to enjoy the sunrise and doesn't hesitate to help the kids even if he has no idea what he's doing, the David who sees the best in everything and tries to force that view on everyone around him.

This David's beginning to drag his feet. He's up a little later, in bed a little earlier. His smile is weaker and flickers like a struggling tealight candle. He's _fine_ , he tells her on repeat. Each day that Campbell isn't there, he's _fine._

She catches him subtly checking his phone more often than usual, and the worst part is she can tell he knows what he's doing is pathetic. Why else would he try to hide it from her?

Jesus. What the fuck is she supposed to do? She's not a support person. She never has been. She's tried, _god_ she's tried. So many pathetic people out there and she thought she could help but that takes a toll on you, makes you hate yourself for being unable to help, makes you tired and unmotivated and leaves you with a useless dual major you barely managed to pass and a job in a deadend little camp you only managed to get because you fulfilled the basic requirement of "keep your mouth shut."

If David's fire goes out, there's nothing to keep hers going either.

 

Three weeks after David made the worst decision of his life, Gwen's fuse burns itself right to the end and e x p l o d e s.

The kicker? It wasn't even that bad, the thing that set her off. It was one afternoon, after she'd already changed her shirt (it rained, overnight, and the camp was replaced with a mud hole which the kids loved and Gwen did not).

One little muddy afternoon.

"Hey, Gwen."

Gwen turns around, her hackles raised. Max looks up at her, his expression disinterested. "What?"

Instead of replying, Max turns to the red, brown and green blur that's racing towards them. "Watch out."

Before she can jump out of the way, Nikki leaps on her, climbing her like a jungle gym. "I win!" she screeches, right next to Gwen's ear, and Gwen jerks back.

A moment later, Harrison comes skidding to a stop behind her. "Aw, man! You may have won this time, Nikki, but next time won't be so easy!"

Gwen catches Nikki by the scruff of her clothes and rips her off. She's filthy, caked in mud, and now that mud is all over Gwen, too.

"I forgot to warn you," Max pipes up, somehow more or less spotless. "You were home base."

It's just mud. It's dirt and water, the two most common things you find in a forest. But something in Gwen snaps, a wire that's frayed and now curls in on itself. Her throat hurts, her eyes burn, and she drops Nikki back into the mud.

Max smiles at her, and Gwen takes a shuddering breath, very marginally suppressing the urge to shove that snide little face into the mud. She's had enough. David won't smile and she can't run this camp by herself and it's just- _enough_.

Fuck this.

With heavy, determined steps, Gwen marches to her cabin and disappears inside.

Her expression is blank, stony as she tears off her ruined clothes. She's done. She's tired and she's had enough and the only place she's going to be for the rest of the day is bed. Fuck the camp. If a kid dies, he dies.

When she's finally curled up under the covers with the warmth and the darkness to protect her, Gwen spills. She grits her teeth and shoves her face into the pillow and heaves hissing, sobbing gasps as her vision blurs.

 

Outside, as Nikki tears off into the mud, slipping once or twice, Max wanders over to where David is trying help Ered detangle her hair from a muddied branch, courtesy of Preston. (He doesn't much care for her, which can get pretty, uh, dramatic, sometimes, Preston being Preston.)

"David," Max starts, and David looks at him.

"Need help with something, buddy?"

Max shrugs. " _I_ don't, but I think Gwen's about to kill herself or something."

David's face pales. "What?"

Max nods towards the counselors’ cabin. "She's in there. You guys keep razors and shit in your bathroom, don't you? Better hurry."

Immediately David takes off sprinting, leaving Ered looking mildly pissed off. She can deal with the stick, though. This is important.

He's been tricked by Max before, been lied to, but this isn't something David will ever, ever take the risk on.

He bursts into Gwen's room, looking first at the open door to the shared bathroom then at the lump under the covers. Every worst case scenario crosses David's mind in an instant and he descends on her, shaking her shoulder. "Gwen?! Gwen, are you-"

"What the fuck do you want?" she croaks out, and relief washes over him.

"You're okay! Gosh, Max had me thinking you... i- it doesn't matter. Are you feeling okay? Why are you in here?"

"Fucking Max," she mutters, then burrows deeper beneath the blankets. "Go away, David." Her voice is thick and wavering, her breathing uneven. David ignores her command to leave.

"Gwen? What's wrong?"

"I said go away," she snaps again, harsher this time. David shakes his head, sitting down on the edge of her mattress.

"Absolutely not. If there's something I can help with, I'm not leaving you alone."

God, he sounds like her. Like her younger, more naive self, the girl who thought she could take broken-hearted boys and fix them. The girl who used to stay up all night on the phone, begging them not to kill themselves. How is he still so... helpful? How has the world not beaten him the fuck down like it did her?

Instead of replying, a fresh wave of tears stains her pillow, a broken sob escaping her. "You don't need this," she rasps. "I'm not gonna kill myself, so you can go."

David shakes his head again, his hand resting on her shoulder over the covers. "I'm not leaving till you're okay."

"Guess you're never leaving, then," she jokes bitterly.

"Gwen..." David says her name like a plea. "Can you tell me what's going on? I-if you can't, I'll stay here until you're feeling better, anyway."

"Oh, fuck off," she growls weakly. "Like you're not already dealing with shit."

"I'm fine. I want _you_ to be okay."

"You're not _fine!_ " Gwen sits up, abrupt enough to make David jolt back. The blanket bunches up in front of her chest, as much a security blanket as it is a covering. "Don't you fucking sit there and tell me you're fine when you're not," she hisses, baring her teeth. "I studied this shit for years and the only goddamn use I've had for it is being able to pick up on your fucking pining and even an _idiot_ could see that!"

David sits back slightly, confusion on his face. "What?"

Just shut up, Gwen wants to tell herself. She grips her upper arms, digging her nails in like a deterrent but it doesn't work, it never works. Her big fucking mouth is still blabbing. "What am I supposed to do when you're-" She gestures wildly at him. "Wasting away like this? I told you, I _told_ you this would happen but you didn't listen and now you're broken, he _broke_ you and how am I supposed to run this camp when you're not okay anymore?" Her words run out with the air in her lungs and she gasps.

David's eyes are wide, his face pale. "I'm... I'm not..."

"You _are,_ " she mutters, shoving her face into her hands. "You're not okay, and we can't both be like this."

"Gwen, I'm okay," David insists, but he might as well be wearing a paper bag with a smiley face over his head for how convincing it is.

"Look at you," she mutters, her eyes weary as they lock onto his. "You know it, too, don't you?"

"I..." David's voice is beginning to waver. He knows she's right. He hates it, and she hates it, but they're not okay. He draws a shaking breath. "I'm sorry." Oh, no. His eyes are beginning to shine, and not the way Gwen wants. "I was... I thought... I was trying to hide it," he finally admits, the first time he's actually acknowledged there's something going on.

Tears well up in his eyes, and his fingers are shaking, and Gwen feels like a monster but she always has. "You weren't, really," she tells him softly. "It was kinda obvious."

"I'm sorry..."

The horrible adrenaline that forced her up begins to drain, leaving her with that same familiar hopelessness. She takes his hand, and it's cold in comparison to hers. She doesn't know what to say next. Years of studying this shit, and she's at a loss for words.

"You told me so," David smiles through the tears that are beginning to slide over his cheeks. "Right?"

"Fuck," she breathes. "Fuck, I don't even know what I'm doing. It's not your fault, it's me, I'm... I shouldn't be doing this."

"But you're not okay, either, and I didn't-" David's voice begins to roughen as his throat tightens. "I didn't even realise, I'm so sorry-"

"David, calm down," she says, squeezing his hand, but it doesn't help when her own voice is still weak and pathetic.

He pulls her into a hug, and even though she's still only in her bra and underwear there's nothing sexual or awkward about it. It's raw emotion, and he hasn't hugged her like this- or at all- since that night with fucking Campbell. The walls she thought she was building in her head, they aren't the stone they felt like, they were paper. Thin and flimsy and worthless and as David's arms tighten around her they fold and disintegrate like wet tissue.

She's not okay, is she? And she can't pretend to be anymore.

A sob rips from Gwen's chest and she goes lax, melting forward against him. She needed this. She didn't realise how much she needed David to be David again.

His crying is quieter, not as silence-shatteringly loud, but his body shakes with the force of it. She can hear his laboured breathing, right beside her ear, and her arms press to her chest, curling up against him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into her hair, his tears catching on the strands. "I didn't mean to feel like this."

"It's not your fault," she murmurs back, returning the favour by crying on his shirt. "I've seen it happen before. I don't blame you."

He holds her a little closer, and the pair of them sit there in the silence, the only sound their mingled, hitched breaths as they gather themselves. "I-" David starts, but his voice breaks. He clears his throat and tries again. "I feel like... I knew he wasn't going to... be like that."

"Of course he wasn't," she mumbles. "He's hardly here to begin with."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, Gwen. I l-let myself get carried away with- with ideas, and... I don't know," he trails off lamely.

"I get it." Gwen sniffs, trying to clear her nose. Crying all over David is one thing but she doesn't need to use him to blow her nose. "You wanted a partner. You're just that kind of guy."

David smiles faintly. "I'm not good at putting this into words, but you are, huh?"

"I'm a girl, I have sisters, it comes with the package," Gwen says dryly. Silence descends on them again, and Gwen feels like it's her turn. "I'm sorry for getting so upset over nothing," she manages. Apologies have never come that easy to her. It's a curious thing, to be so proud and so self-loathing at once.

"It's not nothing," David assures her, running a soothing hand over her back. "You're right. I let this get in the way of my job, and that put strain on you. I'm sorry, Gwen."

"Y-yeah, I... me too. Sorry that Campbell's such an ass, too." David doesn't comment, but he makes a huffing noise that could be humour. "I didn't wanna get involved," she admits, "cause- like, that's your life, I'm not your mom. But you know he's not good for you."

David pauses, and Gwen cringes. Was that too far? Too controlling? She's lost friends over this shit, she can't lose David too.

His gentle movements resume, and when he talks his voice is weak, weary. "I know."

Gwen's surprised to realise she's stopped crying. Her face feels gross and her eyes are sore, but the crippling hopelessness has receded. "If you want, we could find you a nice guy from town," Gwen suggests, gently untangling herself from David's arms. "I can cover the camp on weekends, and you can go out." David makes a non-committal noise, straightening his hair. He offers her a smile, the most genuine one she's seen in weeks, and it's so infectious she can't help smiling back. "Well, it's just a suggestion," she says, holding her hands up.

David's smile widens. "Thank you, Gwen. You're a good friend." He frowns slightly, suddenly registering that she's half naked. "Stupid question, but- where are your clothes?" And honestly, it's not really a stupid question; it's the middle of the day and when he saw her ten minutes before this whole thing she'd been dressed.

"Oh." Gwen looks away, a little shamed. "They're over there. They got mud all over them, and I didn't wanna be, uh, near them. You know?"

David nods. "That's fair, mud isn't exactly my favourite outfit either." He stands up from the bed, and the mattress shifts. "Would you like me to wash them for you? I think we're going to have to do a really big wash for all the campers’ clothes, anyway."

"That'd be awesome, yeah. Thanks."

"No problem!" David stoops to gather up the stained fabric. "I need to go check on the campers, but... you stay in here, okay? I can handle them for a while, you just feel better."

"You're too nice for your own good," she comments, laying back down and pulling the covers across her shoulders. _And I'm too selfish for mine._

David grins, that familiar sunny smile, and it's like she's been banging her head against the wall for a month and only just stopped. "I'll check on you later, okay? And we can keep talking, if you want."

"Maybe, yeah."

David steps out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Now that she's actually in bed, Gwen can't help a yawn. She hadn't realised how tiring it was being a sadsack. She curls up and sets an alarm on her phone for half an hour, then lets her eyes drift shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are gettin spicy now! Once again betaed by my lovely forestwater, and once again, I am but an orphan child begging for comments on the street, sir


	3. Great Good Fine Ok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is fine. Gwen is doing everything right, because she's a good person. This is... Fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter to this dang thing! Boy, what fun. As always, thanks to the lovely Forestwater for betaing!

Gwen makes good on her promise to try and set David up on a date. She really, really doesn't want him falling into the Campbell trap again. Her first try is with a guy a few years older than David that she found online from the next city over.

David's nervous as hell, but Gwen doesn't let him stop to think. She picks an outfit out for him (there's a limited selection- David really just... wears the uniform. All the time). And resolves to take him shopping for some better clothes next time. She sends him away with the car keys, a time and the name of a restaurant.

When he returns that night, Gwen's half-surprised he came back at all. Although, maybe the whole Cameron thing was kind of an outlier. Other than that, David doesn't seem the type to fuck on the first date. "So? How'd it go?"

David puts the keys down on the desk and shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on the chair. "It was nice!"

She waits for him to go on, but he just smiles at her. Gwen rolls her eyes. Right. Male. Talking has to be prompted. "Tell me what happened?"

"Oh! Well, I got there first, and I was really worried about where to sit, so the waitress suggested near the window, which was nice because you could see the fountain outside-"

"What about the guy? How'd it go with him?"

David sits down in the chair, leaning back. He hesitates. "He was very nice..."

"Was he hot?"

David grins, his face beginning to redden. "W-well... yes."

"Good." Gwen had made sure to pick someone a little taller, a little broader. She wasn't totally sure of David's type, but that seemed a pretty safe bet. "I can hear the ‘but’ in your tone," she adds, raising an eyebrow.

David's smile turns sheepish. "He was very nice, and a-attractive, but I don't think it'd work out, in the long run."

"You got all that from one date?"

David wrinkles his nose. "He didn't really... take the camp seriously?"

"You're kidding."

And she means _you're kidding, that was your deal breaker?_ But David takes it as agreement. "Yeah, he said it wasn't a real job. Which- I know you probably agree with," he concedes, shrugging, "but it threw me off. Plus he lives really far away."

"...I didn't say I agreed," she says quietly. She does, but for some reason she just wanted to prove him wrong. She shakes her head. "Well, anyway. There's other fish in the sea. But good job. Y'know, for getting out there and trying."

"I still had fun," David reassures her. "Thank you so much for your help! I'm sorry it didn't work out..."

"It's fine, I don't care. There's plenty of other guys."

David nods, his fingertips grazing his cheek. "Even though we didn't click, he... kissed me goodnight, on my cheek," he confides. "It was nice."

Gwen grins, wiggling her eyebrows at him. "You know, you don't have to date someone to go home with them."

David laughs, putting his hands on his reddening cheeks. "Oh, I couldn't do that!"

Gwen refrains from commenting that he already did, and just grins at him.

 

It becomes her favourite project- find David a boyfriend. Date after date, she sets him up with every eligible guy within a reasonable distance. Which isn't exactly a lot (she can count them on two hands) but each time David comes back to the camp afterwards.

There's always something missing, something that doesn't quite work. One guy was rude to the waiters, which both David and Gwen agreed was a bad sign. Another got really weird, really fast, and now David's knows more than he meant to about the guy's extended family and their ongoing troubles. Some of them are fine, in Gwen's opinion, but David never clicks with any of them.

One afternoon, David comes bounding up to Gwen with a smile on his face. So, no differently than usual. "Gwen, I know you've been so super helpful these past few weeks, and I hope you know how grateful I am that you keep watching over the campers at night!"

"Uh oh. What's happening? Am I being fired or something?"

David laughs like she just made the best joke ever. "Of course not! I was just wondering if you'd be able to do again tonight. I know you've been doing it a lot, and I'm really grateful! Just like normal, though, you can take tomorrow off in exchange!"

Gwen blinks. "Uh, sure, I guess. But where are you going?"

A pink tinge wells up in David's cheeks. "Well, you've been so kind, setting me up on all these dates, I felt like I was really letting you down because they didn't work out. So I thought I'd give you a break and arrange something for myself!"

"You're not 'letting me down,'" Gwen snorts. "But hey, good for you. I'm fine with the kids for the night." Not that it's ever an issue. They're usually too tired by then to be much trouble, and if they are, she's got QM to back her up.

"That's so wonderful! Thank you so much!" David captures her in a hug, and Gwen allows it for the minimum of five seconds before wriggling herself out of his grip. "Where's it at?"

"Well, she asked if we could meet at that restaurant- the one I met Darryl at-"

But Gwen doesn't hear the rest of the sentence. David's chatter fades out as her mind skips over that one word like a broken record.

 _She_.

"David." David pauses mid-sentence. "Aren't you gay?"

She can tell by the look on his face that he's just as confused as she is. "Uh... No?"

She stares at him. "Why not?"

David looks to the side, uncomfortable from the intensity of her gaze. "Sh- should I be?"

"Yes!"

"Um... Sorry?" David stands there, his face mildly alarmed as Gwen gapes at him.

After a moment, she shakes her head. "I mean... No, you don't have to be sorry for that, I just- I really thought you were gay."

David tilts his head. "I never said I was."

"Yeah, but-!" Gwen throws up her hands. "You've never talked about girls! David, the _one_ time you showed interest in someone it was a guy, what was I supposed to think?"

David bites his lip, his face beginning to pink. "Well, yeah, but... I'm not actually... y'know. Not- not that there's anything wrong with it! I'm just not!"

Gwen crosses her arms, and something in her stance gives David the distinct feeling of being a deer in the headlights. "So let me get this straight." She stares him down. "Not gay."

"No."

"But not straight."

"That's right."

"...Bi?"

David nods, feeling oddly chastised.

Gwen looks at some point far away and then sighs, thoughtful. "Huh."

"Is that okay?"

Gwen squints at him, but it's not a joke or sarcasm (not that she thinks David knows how to use sarcasm). He genuinely seems worried he's upset her, and to be fair, that may have been a bit of an overreaction. "Of course it's okay, you idiot. I just didn't expect it."

David puts his hands on his hips. "Really? Even after I went on that date with the girl from town? You remember, Bonquisha?"

"Oh, I remember. I remember you coming back to the camp looking traumatized. Not a great indicator of a successful date."

"Ok, but-"

"And there," Gwen interrupts, "look at you, you're standing there with you hands on your hips! That's not really a _straight_ thing to do, David." Self-consciously, David crosses his arms instead, and Gwen can't help laughing. The indignation on his face just makes it worse, until she's practically bent double, gasping for breath. She's drawing looks from the campers over in the field, but whatever. "Alright, alright, you don't have to get so defensive," she grins, her laughter trailing off. "I'm over my shock, you're not in trouble, it's _fine_."

David relaxes, mirroring her smile. It's nice to see his best friend smiling like that. Especially since she's not a smiley person to begin with. She's been... happier, since that muddy day. David's been wondering if maybe having a project to focus on has really been good for her. Maybe once this is over (and when will it be over? After camp? When he has a partner? When they've tried everyone in the tri-county area?) he could suggest something else for her to work on. Maybe somehow he can work her oddly mothering attitude towards him into her creative writing. That'd take some creative _thinking,_  but that's what David does!

David pulls her into another brief hug- he's been a lot more huggy lately, which is unfortunate for Gwen, because she hasn't.

After prying herself free, Gwen watches as David prances away ("straight," she snorts to herself. "As if.") to get ready. After all these dates, she trusts him to pick out his own outfit. He even got himself some cologne from the little pharmacy in town, a woodsy, pine-ish kind of thing that comes in a bottle stamped with a tree. It's like it was _made_ for him.

Maybe by some kind of... higher power, who had control over every detail in their lives. But probably not. That'd be ridiculous.

 

Just after herding all the kids into the mess hall for dinner, David shoots Gwen a bright smile- like a kid about to go to Disneyland- and makes his departure. Another night of just her and QM running this shitshow.

For the first time, David's not back until the camp is well and truly asleep, and Gwen's the only one left awake. When David hadn't appeared by the Camper's lights off, it honestly seemed like he wasn't coming back for the night. Good for him.

So Gwen decided to take the time to treat herself to one of her favourite romance novels (skipping straight to the good bits, of course) and her other best friend, the one powered by batteries.

Luckily (or unluckily, depending on your perspective) when David crept in the front door, she wasn't too far along to comfortably stop. Kind of annoying, but whatever.

She pulls her shorts back on and pads over to her bedroom door, opening it to find David shucking off his jacket by the light of a small lantern. "You're back pretty late," she hums, leaning against the doorframe with a smile that makes the tips of David's ears flush red.

"I'm sorry! Did I wake you?" Gwen shakes her head, choosing to refrain from explaining why she wasn't asleep. David smiles, straightening up. "Glad to hear it. The date went well! And before you say anything," he quickly says, noting the way Gwen had opened her mouth with a smirk, "No, it didn't go that far."

"Aw. Why not?"

David makes a face that Gwen assumes is trying to be noble but comes across more as clumsily aloof. "It was only the first date, Gwen."

"Never stopped me before," she grins. "So then why _are_ you home so late?"

David chuckles. "We had coffee after dinner. A- at her place."

Gwen's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. "You got invited in for coffee- standard date code for 'let's fuck'- and you _didn't do it?"_

"First date, Gwen," David reminds her. She snorts.

"Nobody has coffee for 3 hours. You did _something_."

David chooses not to reply, which is the worst possible thing you can do to a gossip-hungry young woman. Instead he kicks off his shoes, arranging them neatly by the door, and reaches up to undo the bandana around his neck, because of _course_ he wore it. But just before he can, his fingers hesitate, and he drops them. Oh, he's hiding something.

"Thanks again for watching the camp, Gwen," he suddenly says, looking up at her with the most genuine look in his eyes. It almost hurts, it's so pure.

"You better make it worth my while next time."

"Anything you'd like!"

She turns her head, her smile growing wicked. "Next time, don't come back until the next day."

David chokes. Actually, really chokes, breaking off into coughing, and Gwen snickers to herself.

"Alright, Casanova, I'm going back to bed. Oh, wait, before I go-" She steps forward, and David's eyes follow her movement, confusion written across his face. She leans forward, her arms raising like she's going for a hug, and his face clears. Hugs! He loves those!

Before the magical event can take place, though, her fingers hook around his bandana, yanking it to the side. David yelps, attempting to push her hands away, but it's too late. She saw.

For one, single second, Gwen is frozen. She'd been expecting a hickey. She'd been looking for a hickey. She'd found one.

So what was with the sudden jolt of ice through her stomach?

Her smile falters but she doesn't let it fall. It was just a flash. It's gone. This was fine. "Fucking knew it," she hisses gleefully, and David presses a hand over the top of where the purpling bruise is.

"Gwen!"

She nudges him playfully. " _Get it,_  Mr Greenwood."

David's face defies logic by turning even redder. He smile is wide but embarrassed, the kind to smile that tugs at your mouth whether you want it to or not. "Gwen, come on!"

"No, David, _you_ come on!" Gwen starts checking off her fingers. "On her face, on her chest, on her back-"

She's suddenly silenced by David's hand over her mouth. He's laughing, but he can't look her in the face. "Go to _bed_ , Gwen!"

Her sisters used to do this to her all the time as a kid. Especially when she was about to get them in trouble.

And there's only one good defense when someone's got their hand on your mouth.

David yanks his hand away with a shriek, and Gwen grins, retracting her tongue. "Gwen! Ew!"

"You asked for it!"

He laughs. He laughs, and it's like every single star, every single constellation has gathered in his eyes, in his voice, in the way his face crinkles beside his eyes when he's smiling wide enough.

He looks down at his palm, shiny with Gwen's spit, and makes a face. Then he looks up, something dark in his glance, and before she can process it he wipes his hand along her shoulder.

"Ew!" She jolts away, giggling.

"It's _your_ spit!" he protests.

"Yeah, but still! Gross!"

David shakes his head. "I'm going to bed, and you should too."

"Alright, alright. But I want details in the morning."

"No promises."

David steps into his room and gently closes the door, taking all the light with him. Gwen's smile fades back into something more neutral. She kinda wishes that could've lasted a few more minutes. It was... fun.

The image of David's hickey flashes into the forefront of her mind, and Gwen heads back to bed, pulling the covers tight around her. Her vibrator lays forgotten in her drawer. She's not really in the mood for it anymore.

A hickey, huh?

... Good for him.

 

The next day, Gwen doesn't ask for details. She forgets.

At least, that's what she hopes David assumes. She makes the regular jabs, but she doesn't push. Occasionally, she catches the edge of the bruise on David's throat peeking out from his bandana, watching over the next few days as it fades from purple to yellow to nothing. When it's finally gone, she feels... she feels exactly the same as she did before she saw it. She's happy for him, she's proud of him, and she wants him to go out and have a good time. That's what she wants.

The next week, when David asks her once again to babysit the camp, she agrees. Of course she does. He practically does her whole job for her, he deserves to go out.

"So who is it this time?" She smiles, and David's answering grin is bashful.

"It's that girl again, Lisa! She asked for a second date!"

Gwen's stomach remains where it is. Not in her throat, not dropped to her feet. No, her stomach stays exactly where good stomachs stay. "That's so great! Sounds like you guys are really hitting it off!"

David hugs her, thanking her profusely, and Gwen makes the required noises of reciprocation until he bounds away.

Good for him.

That's what she keeps telling herself.

Good for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Gwen. You beautiful disaster, you.
> 
> (I normally hate inserting OCs into stories, but it's necessary for plot. Don't worry, though, she's not actually in any of it.)


	4. I Can't Leave You Alone For One Goddamn Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are going great! For David, that is. Attempted melting notwithstanding.

David's back pretty late again that night. This time, Gwen doesn't feel like coming out to greet him. He'll assume she's asleep, and that's fine. She can ask him about it tomorrow.

Over breakfast, Gwen forces herself to break the seal on the topic. Why it's such a chore, she doesn't know, but something about bringing it up seems almost daunting until she's had her coffee.

"So... how was last night? You get lucky yet?" she asks under her breath, waggling her eyebrows at David.

David's eyes dart around the room, afraid that one of the kids might hear. "Gwen!" he whispers back. "...No."

"Why not?"

"It's only the second date, Gwen," David says like it's obvious. Maybe it is and she's just a whore.

"How many dates _do_ you need to be wooed, then?" she asks, rolling her eyes.

"Uh," David blinks. "I'm not actually sure. Maybe... Five?"

"Well, you're almost halfway there," she smirks, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. He grins, embarrassed.

"That's not a definite plan," he defends, and Gwen gasps.

"You mean it could happen _sooner_? David, you dog!"

David puts his face in his hands, but Gwen can see the edge of his smile beneath it. Just that, the corner of his mouth, is a serious contender for the "cutest thing Gwen's ever seen" competition. And she's looked through David's puppy book.

Even sooner than the second date, David's asking Gwen to take over for another night.

"Lisa again?" she asks, her smile feeling forced. David's looks genuine, bright as a bonfire.

"Yep! Gosh, she's really a lot of fun, and I really think she actually likes me!" The way he says it, like he's aware that no one at the camp likes him, suddenly strikes Gwen like a bullet grazing her heart.

"What's not to like? Cute green-eyed redhead with a car, a job and freckles? I'm surprised you weren't taken sooner."

David bites his lip, his smile so wide his face is going to crack. "Gosh, I don't know about all that..."

"Just stating facts."

He presses a fist to his mouth, an adorable little huff of breath escaping him. "Anyway, I'll be back around the same time. I think."

"You _think_?" Gwen leers, her grin growing more wicked as her stomach tightens. David looks away, sheepish.

"I mean, I don't know! I... guess there's a possibility!"

Gwen chuckles, gently punching his arm. She's rapidly losing steam to talk about this, and she needs to eject herself from the conversation before her mask falls off. "You have fun, okay?"

"I will! Thanks so, so much, Gwen."

He sweeps her up in a hug, and for once Gwen doesn't struggle or try to end it. She waits for David to decide when he's done, and that takes a whole 60 seconds. A long time for a hug, a tiny fraction of the day, and the only part that made today feel worth getting out of bed for.

 

Gwen doesn't know for sure if David comes home that night. As soon as the campers are in bed, she gets out her stash of emergency sleeping pills and pops two of them. For whatever reason, she's achingly tired but there's a feeling in her gut that if she doesn't do this, she won't sleep at all.

She's dead to the world until David's shaking her awake, the sun already up.

"Gwen?" he says gently as her eyes open a crack, squinting at him.

"Nngh."

"It's 10 o'clock," he informs her. Later than she should be up, but her head is still so groggy.

"Kids?" she grunts, and David gives her a small, tender smile.

"They're fine. Everyone's almost finished with breakfast, and I'm gonna start the activities soon. It's only arts and crafts, so you don't need to rush if you're too tired."

Arts and crafts always has the potential to be disastrous at this camp. "I'm up," she grunts, pulling herself upright like the night of the living dead.

David steps back to give her room. "Don't rush, okay? Just join us when you're ready. I left you some breakfast and a cup of coffee in the microwave."

God, he's too good to her. She's a shitty employee and he just lets her be.

He leaves her to get dressed and less zombie-like. She finds her food in the mess hall, right where he said, and works through it slowly while the faraway sounds of kids playing (which means kids screaming, generally) fills the silence.

Actually, some of that screaming might be actual screaming. Gwen chugs her lukewarm coffee and power-walks to the activities field, where she should've found the campers engaged in still life painting. Instead, she finds David strung up from a tree by his ankles over a huge metal barrel of acetone, with Nikki holding the rope and laughing maniacally.

For _fuck's_ sake.

"Alright, everyone sit THE FUCK DOWN," she roars, stomping over. Several of the campers and frightened into obedience right away, dropping to sit on the grass. Nikki is not among them, and neither is Max, who's standing beside the barrel and looking pissed off that they've been interrupted.

David looks up at her, relief washing over his expression. "Oh! Gwen! Hello! Um, good timing, actually, because if you're not busy, I could use a hand!"

"Yeah, no kidding. Nikki, if you drop that fucking rope I'm going to kick you into the lake," she snaps. "Max, out of the way."

Max makes a 'tch' noise, stepping away, and Gwen heaves the barrel a few feet out of the way, leaving a patch of flattened grass. She stands on top of it, holding out her arms.

"Alright, Nikki, lower him down. _Slowly_."

Nikki drops the rope.

David shrieks as gravity claims him, his entire weight hitting Gwen and bringing her down with a strangled grunt.

David wiggles, rolling off of her and attempting to sit upright, despite his hands and feet still being bound. "Gwen! Are you okay?"

"Fine," she grunts. "What about you?"

"I'm okay, thanks to you," he beams. "You saved me!"

"What the fuck were they trying to do?" She asks, glancing over to where Max and Nikki have joined the rest of the group.

"Ah. Well, from what I could gather, Nikki thought I would melt, and Max thought it might turn me into the, um, the joker? They both seemed pretty convinced on their plans."

Gwen groans, beginning to undo the ropes around his ankles. "I told you not to let them watch _Who Framed Roger Rabbit._  That movie is so not appropriate for kids."

"I loved that movie as a kid," David comments sadly. Gwen snorts, kneeling behind him to free his wrists.

"Of course you did. Every little boy does. Pretty sure Jessica Rabbit jump-started more than a few puberties."

"I-! That's not why I liked it!"

"Maybe not the only reason, but it's definitely one, isn't it?"

The ropes fall away and David turns to look over his shoulder, ignoring the question. "Thank you, Gwen. I really appreciate your help."

"I seriously don't know how you got in that much trouble in five minutes, but it's fine. Just... maybe don't keep giant, uncovered barrels of acetone around anymore."

"That... seems smart."

David takes care of the barrel, finding a lid for it and dragging it back to the storage shed.

While he does that, Gwen stomps over to the group of kids sitting on the grass. "Alright, you little assholes. The next time you pull that shit, you're all the ones going in barrels of paint remover. We clear?" A few sulky, nodded heads, but that's good enough. "Especially you, Nikki and Max," she hisses, jabbing a finger at them. "I'm not in the _fucking_ mood to deal with your shit, and I'm not kidding when I say that I'm going to drop-kick you to that creepy sex island."

Nikki looks suitably spooked, and even Max looks a little uncomfortable, shrugging and turning away.

It'll do. She straightens up and goes to find David. "Are you okay? Not melted at all?" she asks as she walks up behind him.

He jumps slightly, his head whipping around. "Oh! Um-" he pats himself all over, then grins at her goofily. "Nope, still a solid. Unless-" He runs his fingers through his hair, grimacing when they touch something wet at the tip. "They got my hair, a bit. Do you think it'll do anything?"

"I don't know. Acetone is just really drying, as far as I know, but I've got some leave-in conditioner you can use tonight."

"That's so kind of you!"

"I'm just glad you didn't melt. We have enough trouble here without you." She squints. "Although, I wouldn't be surprised if you were a cartoon, especially with that hair and those eyes."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

Gwen chuckles. "Don't worry about it. You're probably not a cartoon. Too bad, though. You'll never get your chance with Jessica Rabbit."

David splutters, a blush rising in his cheeks. He's so easy. "I- said that's not why I watched it!"

Gwen shrugs. "Well, that's why _I_ watched it." David just stares at her. She raises her eyebrows. "Had to start noticing girls some time, right?"

"E-excuse me?!"

But Gwen's already turned, walking away, hiding the grin on her face.

 

With Gwen to watch over the activities alongside David, the rest of the day goes smoothly. Until after dinner.

David's not going out, not tonight. And neither has he brought up last night's date. Gwen doesn't want to ask. She'd rather not get an answer. She's happy for him, she is. She's _so_ happy for him. He's happy.

And she's _especially_ happy when David approaches her for relationship advice that night before bed.

"Gwen? Can I... ask you something? Something personal?"

Immediately, Gwen's guard goes up, and her hands pause where she's brushing the hairband kinks out of her hair. "What is it?"

"I... okay, well, this weekend Lisa and I were thinking of going out again."

"Oh." Gwen resumes brushing. "And you want me to take care of the camp...?"

"Well, yes, but that's not actually what I wanted to ask," he sighs, slumping down in his chair. "It's... it's been a little while, and she wants- she wants me to spend the night."

"Like, sex? You guys haven't fucked yet?" David shakes his head, and something heavy in Gwen's stomach that she didn't even know was there lifts. She smiles. "Well, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Just tell her-"

David shakes his head again. "No, I want to," he corrects, and the heaviness is back a thousand fold. "I'm just... I- I'm nervous."

Gwen feels... Hollow. Disassociated. She's dimly aware of how her plastic smile stretches her face, how her tone is soothing. How the words that come from her feel fake, how they burn her throat on the way up. She's given this speech a thousand times before to friends and younger sisters alike. "Just take things slow, make sure it feels right. Make sure you have protection, and remember that it's okay to laugh. Took me a while to figure out it doesn't have to be perfect and serious. If you can laugh together, you can fuck."

The grateful look on David's face feels like a poison, and Gwen couldn't pinpoint why if you asked her. "I just... want her to like it," he admits quietly. Gwen looks at the wall, seeing nothing.

"Pay attention to what she tells you," she recites. "Communication is key."

Gwen can't even follow her own fucking advice.

He reaches over to her hand, taking it in his. "Thank you, Gwen. Honestly. I don't know of anyone else I could ever talk to about this stuff." He squeezes her hand. Gwen's fingers sit limply in his grip, and after an awkward moment David releases them. "I really appreciate it," he repeats, standing up. "I'm gonna get some rest. Don't stay up too late again, okay?"

"Night, David."

Gwen puts the hairbrush down and watches the blood rush back into her skin where it's gone white from pressure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be honest, who /wouldn't/ fuck Jessica Rabbit? We all would.  
> If you disagree meet me behind the seven eleven I'll kick your ass in my sparkly red dress and heels.  
> The only way you can avoid this fate is by leaving a comment


	5. You Can Only Lie For So Long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen is no stranger to making mistakes, but this is a pretty big one.

The weekend arrives.

Dawn of the final day.

At breakfast, Gwen chokes down her coffee beside David, the man bouncing on his heels without caffeine. Something she'll never understand.

He's chipper, more chipper than usual, and Gwen doesn't want to think about why or she'll be sick. She might actually vomit this awful coffee all over herself. Wouldn't that be great? Just.. just wonderful. Maybe she should vomit all over Lisa instead. Yeah, that's a great idea. "What to wear to a date with David, but only if you're Lisa": an advice column by Gwen.

She stays on the sidelines all through the morning, watching David take the campers through the wonderful art of Macramé.

She's eaten, she's hydrated, she's nowhere near her period. So what the fuck with the constant ache in her belly?

Lunch seems to arrive without much fanfare, and the kids are herded back into the hall. David collects meal for himself and Gwen (he always does that- Gwen's tried to do it herself, but his reasoning is "I'm already over there and I have two hands!") and delivers them to their table. "How are you feeling today, Gwen?" he asks as he sits beside her. They always sit beside each other. Neither wants to have their backs turned to the kids.

"I'm fine," she lies through her teeth. "What about you, excited for tonight?"

"Oh, yes!" David's eyes brighten up a few clicks. "We're going to that bar in town! She wanted to do something casual!"

"That's great." She pokes at her food, and the sickness in her stomach travels up to her chest, up to her brain. "Hey, yknow..."

"Hm?" David questions through a mouthful of what could be edible food.

"I was thinking..." Gwen swallows. She swallows like it's going to keep the words down, like she can save herself. But it doesn't and she can't. "You mind if I tag along?"

David swallows his mouthful and looks at her. "Tag along?"

"I mean, not as a third wheel. But I was thinking of going into town tonight anyway, and I just wondered if you'd give me a lift there. I'm not gonna third-wheel on your date, don't worry."

He tilts his head. "Who'd look after the camp?"

"QM's technically qualified," Gwen points out. "And the kids seem to respect him. Or at least fear him."

He looks around the room, his gaze tentative. "I... I have to say it's probably not a good idea," he says apologetically. "I wouldn't be able to take you back to the camp afterwards, and I'd be worried about the kids. What do you need to do in town? Is it something I can get for you?"

Gwen freezes. Fuck, she needs a reason. "My... sister's birthday is today. And I promised I'd go out and get a drink on her behalf and give her a call when I'm wasted. We used to get drunk together on our birthdays all the time," she chuckles, the lie flowing smoothly.

David sighs wistfully. "I always wished I had someone to do that with."

She waves him off. "Nah, siblings are overrated. It's like, half shit, half great."

"Well," David smiles at her, so genuine and helpful and friendly and she feels her last scraps of self respect dying. "I do understand how important family traditions are! If it means that much to you, I'm sure the Quartermaster is more than capable of one night alone. But- what about accommodation?"

"I'll get a hotel," she mutters into her second disgusting coffee of the day. "Or a cab. Something."

David beams, knocking his shoulder affectionately against hers. "We can hang out at the bar before Lisa arrives!" He gasps. "You'll get to meet Lisa!"

Gwen smiles, only for him. "Awesome."

 

Night falls quickly, like it, too, is just waiting to see how Gwen fucks this up.

"You ready?" She looks up from where she's pushing her phone into her little clutch purse. David smiles at her, all shirt and jacket and jeans and dress shoes and she wants to cry. She picked that outfit out for him.

"Absolutely." She gives him a wide smile, and he picks up the keys and leads the way to the car, saluting the Quartermaster on the way out. The Quartermaster salutes back, sitting oddly forebodingly on a log in the middle of the campers tents. (He's going to stay there all night, and none of the campers will be brave enough to leave their tents.)

 

The whole ride there, David and Gwen chat.

Well, no. David chats with a hollow paper doll who happens to look like Gwen, who happens to offer the correct responses and laugh at the right time, but on the inside-

Gwen is rotted. And nothing she does tonight is going to change that. In fact, tonight she is going to do the worst thing she has ever done to the best friend she has ever had.

And even the burning hatred for herself isn't going to stop her.

David pulls up outside the bar. "We're pretty early," he says, checking his watch. "Lisa said she'd meet us here at about 9, and it's only 8:30. That gives us plenty of time to get a bit of buddy time in!" He grins, and Gwen laughs.

"Buddy time? Fucking _what_?"

"I think it's a great name!"

"Of course _you_ do."

David leads the way into the sparsely populated establishment, the pair of them taking seats up at the bar. "Y'want something?" the bartender grunts.

"Can I get a Shirley Temple?" David looks at Gwen. "Gwen, what would you like?"

"Uh..." She scans the menu. "I don't know, something strong. Can I get a couple of shots of that honey bourbon?"

Mistake number who knows.

The bartender nods and starts to fix their drinks.

"A Shirley temple?" Gwen nudges David in the side. "Really?"

"Well, I'm driving," he reminds her.

With hardly anyone else to serve, their drinks are in front of them within moments. Gwen gratefully downs the first shot, relishing the burn. She deserves this. She deserves to drink poison, to match her poisonous personality. Shot number two follows, then three. She doesn't stop to think.

David eyes her, half impressed and half fearful. "Wow. Uh, good job?" he offers. Gwen snorts.

"Thanks, Shirley." He grins, stirring his drink and taking a sip. "What time is it?"

He checks his watch. "8:45. Fifteen minutes to go!"

Gwen smiles. "Do you mind if I borrow your phone to call my sister? I left mine back at the camp." _Please don't. Don't let me. Say no._

"Of course! Here," David says, pulling his pink phone from his pocket and offering it to her.

"Thanks," she says, dying a little more inside as she take it. She's surprised. She didn't think there was anything left to shrivel up. "Be right back. I'm gonna step outside."

Gwen clutches the phone in her shaking hand, stepping into the cool night air and away from any windows that David might look through.

She unlocks it- no password, of course- and opens Messages.

She thought her hands would shake. Maybe it's the alcohol. She can feel it, burning through her system, making her thoughts lose their edge.

Whatever it is, Gwen's fingers don't even tremor as she types out a message.

_"Hey, sweetheart. I'm really, really sorry, but... I'm stuck at the camp. I won't be able to make it tonight. I hope you didn't go to too much bother for me. Can we reschedule, maybe?"_

Her thumb hovers over the send button. It's been a long time since Gwen had done something bad. Sure, she's broken rules, been lazy, been rude to people. But this is beyond that, way beyond. This is something sick. Sick and disgusting and he doesn't deserve it.

She presses send.

Her heart thrums in her chest, a frantic rhythm that won't calm down no matter how long she stands out there, gulping down the cooling air. His phone dings in her hands, and she nearly drops it.

Her eyes barely skim the message. She catches "that's fine, hon" and "when" and that's enough.

She types out "I'll let you know", sends it, and deletes the messages.

She knows this can't stay buried forever. This won't even stay buried for more than a few days. But right now she's getting drunker by the second, the shots hitting her, and she has a whole evening with David. Everything she doesn't deserve is right here, and Gwen's going to enjoy it.

She steps back into the bar, offers David his phone, and smiles at him. He's so wonderful, so trusting. Doesn't even look at it. She needs to enjoy it while she can, because Gwen knows that what she just did is going to destroy them.

9 comes and goes. By 9:15, David's antsy, looking around the bar every few minutes. "I hope she's okay," he mumbles to himself, and Gwen shakes her head.

"She's probably fine. Might even still be getting ready," she snickers.

David smiles at her, but it's only a half smile. "I guess..."

Another 15 minutes. Another shot, another Shirley temple, and David's looking a little worse for wear, watching the door with worry creasing his face. "I should text her." He pulls out his phone, but Gwen snatches it from him before he can even wake the screen.

"Woah there, cowboy. You don't wanna seem clingy, do you?"

"I... I guess not," David concedes.

Gwen nods. "Give it a bit more time."

Gwen worked so hard on her makeup for this. But she's going to ruin it all crying if she's not careful. This isn't turning out how she thought it would. She wanted time with her David, the David who giggles into his hands and goes red at the drop of a hat and makes the lamest jokes. This David is anxious and quiet, watching the door. This David belongs to _her._  Not Gwen.

Regret swirls bitterly in her stomach, mixing with the liquor already in there.

This isn't what she wanted.

 

Somehow, between their stilted conversation and David's anxious door-watching, the clock strikes 10. "It's getting late," he mumbles into his third Shirley Temple.

Gwen hums sympathetically. "You think she stood you up?"

"No. She wouldn't..." David hesitates. "She's not like that."

Of course she isn't. She's perfect. She's everything Gwen isn't.

"Here." Gwen pushes one of her shots over to him. David looks at it, then up at her.

"I'm driving."

"One shot won't kill you. Go on, take the edge off."

She expects him to fight more. To say it's irresponsible, to decline. To be a better person than her. But instead he reaches for the shot and knocks it back, not stopping till the tiny glass is empty. His face screws up at the taste, and he follows it with his own sweet drink. "Ugh," he groans. Gwen smiles, patting him on the back.

"You get used to it."

The clock ticks over to 10:08.

 

Back at the camp, one of the kids is still awake, unsettled by the unwavering presence of the Quartermaster.

In a different part of the world, Cameron Campbell dodges bullets, running down the hallway of a parliament building.

In the only bar in a tiny little town at the bottom of a tiny little mountain, Lisa walks through the door.

 

Neither of them notice. Not until she says his name.

"David?"

David's back straightens. He twists in his chair, his eyes wide. "Lisa?"

Gwen turns, slower, her face weary. Here it goes. Sooner than she expected, but it doesn't matter anymore. This is still the slowest suicide.

She's gorgeous. Of course she is. Pretty and pale and blond, wearing shock like a fashion accessory. Her eyes flick to Gwen- plain old rotten-on-the-inside Gwen. "Um... who is this?"

David immediately slides off his chair, wrapping her in a hug. Gwen picks up one of his empty glasses, looking down at the melting ice inside. Maybe if she numbs her tongue, the bad taste in her mouth will disappear. She tips her head back, knocking the ice into her mouth.

David turns, one arm still wrapped around Lisa's waist and his face brighter than the sun, brighter than their future together. "This is Gwen, the girl I told you about! She tagged along while we waited for you- she's celebrating a birthday from afar."

Lisa smiles, uncertain. "Hello.." Gwen gives her a slight nod. She turns to David, lowering her voice. "Waited for me? What do you mean?"

Gwen swallows the ice in her mouth and opens her purse. She pulls a 20 from it and slips it under one of her empty shot glasses, standing up.

Physically, she registers the words as David explains how they'd been waiting. How Lisa explains her side of it, and it's just as she's pulling out her phone that Gwen steps over the threshold and out into the night, ignoring the faint, confused call of her name.

She takes a deep breath.

And starts running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GWEN. WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU MONUMENTAL IDIOT.


	6. Sans Soleil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen has to live with her mistake, and it's... Draining. Who can she blame but herself?

Gwen isn't fit. Not like David. But she works at a camp where the main activity is unfortunately not sitting down, so she lasts a few minutes before the burning in her lungs brings her stumbling to a halt against a tree. She's out of the town, passed the last streetlight a minute ago. She didn't think to bring a flashlight, but she thanks god she didn't wear heels.

Standing there in the dark, Gwen slowly falls to a crouch, her palms dragging painfully against the bark. Her knees hit her chest and a tired, broken sob rushes out of her.

Her head is spinning. Why did she take those shots? Why did she take his phone, why did she come out tonight, why is she _still alive?_

Why do people keep giving her chances? All she does is ruin them.

She can't imagine what they're saying about her back there. She doesn't want to, and it's all she's doing. They hate her. They're right to. She's selfish and conniving and doesn't deserve anything she's been given.

Her legs are shaking, but Gwen forces herself up and begins to walk. Her head spins, her balance is off, but she just sticks to the side of the road, the lights of the town growing smaller behind her. She knows this road leads straight back to camp. She doesn't know how long the walk is, but she'll get there. Back to camp. Back to bed, back to where things are okay.

Her phone begins to buzz. Gwen squints at the screen.

David.

She rejects the call.

And the call after that.

And by the third one, she's surprised he's still calling. She turns on airplane mode and the night is blissfully silent.

It only occurs to her a few more minutes down the road that now he'll know she didn't leave her phone back at the camp. She should've just let it ring. Like always, she's a fucking idiot.

It's a nice night. The stars are so gorgeous from around here. Much nicer than in the city, where they're... nonexistent. Gwen gazes up at them as she walks. They blur, and she's not sure if it's from the alcohol or the tears. Probably both. Doesn't matter which.

Time passes. Gwen checks her phone occasionally, but each time the numbers disappear from her vision they disappear from her memory as well. It's been at least.. half an hour, she thinks. It's not midnight yet, that much she knows. Maybe.

A faint rumbling in the distance begins to swell, the noise close enough for her ears to pick up on it. It doesn't reach her head in time to hide. She just watches the way the headlights grow brighter, casting her shadow ahead of her, stretching out like it's trying to escape her. She doesn't blame it. She doesn't want to be herself either.

The car pulls up beside her, stopping, and nothing happens. Gwen pauses. She knows that car.

Oh. Of course. Who else would be driving this road at this time of night?

The faint rumbling of the engine makes the air feel closer. With a click, the passenger door swings open.

A voice snaps out at her, low and cold. "Get in."

Gwen considers not doing it. She looks at David's silhouette, barely visible in the reflected light of the headlights. She looks at the endless road ahead of her.

"Gwen, get in the car."

Gwen hesitates. She takes a step, further along the road, and David's car lurches forward, curving in front of her, blocking her path. The door is still open.

"Gwen."

She has to decide between vomiting out what's left of her heart or climbing in.

Gwen gets in the car. She pulls the door closed, clicks her seatbelt across her chest, and clutches her purse.

David doesn't say anything. Doesn't look at her, and she's thankful. If he looked at her, she knows he'd be seeing the real her, and she can't. She's sitting there, raw and flayed open, with no one to blame but herself.

And her head's still spinning.

The car swerves back onto the road and begins to drive. The silence is thick, sticking in her throat and on her skin. David keeps his gaze steadily on the road. She can see the tension in his jaw.

The trip back to camp is endless. This is her hell. He killed her, back at the bar, and she's doomed to ride an endless road with her own personal demons, her head never clearing and her throat never clear.

He pulls back into the camp, parking and turning the key in the ignition. Neither of them make a move to get out, the darkness surrounding and suffocating them like a blanket.

"Go inside," David manages, his voice tense and icier than she's ever heard it. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

Gwen licks her lips. She can't leave without saying something. She just needs- she can't have his last thought of her be her silence. "Thank you for picking me up," she manages to croak.

David just grunts, waiting for her to get out.

She climbs out, closing the door gently behind her, and the car starts to life again. She steps away and the car pulls out, turning back the way they came. She stands there until the rumbling of the engine fades and the there's no light left to stare at.

Gwen glances at the Quartermaster, expecting him to slink off somewhere now that she's back, but he seems happy to perch on that log by the dying embers of the campfire. She finds herself in her room with no memory of carrying herself inside.

She curls up in her bed, her makeup still on and her hair still thick with hairspray. She didn't even take her shoes off. Unconsciousness takes her, and she's never been more grateful for the escape of sleep.

Her dreams are feverish, constant replays of walking out of the bar, of getting out of David's car. Of leaving.

She should leave. That's the only thing she can do.

 

She wakes, her head throbbing and the sun in the sky. Her phone says 7:28, only a half hour before her alarm. Not that she'll be able to sleep anyway.

She forces herself up, filling a plastic water bottle with barely-drinkable tap water and carrying it back to her bed. She forces herself to hydrate, forces some painkillers down her throat, and waits in a miserable limbo for them to work.

When they finally kick in, she drags herself to the shower to scrub an entire layer of herself off.

While dressing, Gwen glances out the window. The car is back, but she can't hear David in the cabin. Not that that's unusual, he's usually up and out by 7 at the latest.

She can hear the kids as they all mill around outside, the general flow taking them one by one to the mess hall for breakfast. Her stomach roils violently as she imagines the day ahead of her.

Her steps are like walking on glass, emotionally if not exactly literally. She drags herself to the mess hall, and as she nears the door she makes eye contact with Max, also heading towards breakfast.

He pauses. "You look like shit."

She doesn't even have the energy to glare. She just steps inside.

He's watching the kids, his eyes slightly glazed over as he eats, his mind clearly somewhere else. At the sound of the door, he looks up.

The first time David ever met Gwen, he smiled at her. And he hugged her. He treated her like a close friend, and eventually that's what they were.

Today, when David looks up at her, his face is blank. He looks through her like a stranger, and that hurts so much fucking more than if he'd glared.

Gwen collects her breakfast and gingerly takes a seat on the other end of the table. He doesn't look at her. He doesn't talk to her. And she sure as hell isn't going to initiate the conversation.

When he's finished, David stands up and returns his tray. He turns around, a bright smile on his face, and claps his hands together. All the kids look up. "Alright, campers! Is everyone ready to get out there and _campe diem_?" A collective groan goes up around the room. "Well, too bad, because after you're done with your breakfast, you're all heading down to the lakeside for sandcastle building!"

There's a few groans that taper off as some of the kids realise that's not so bad.

"Whose activity is that?" Nikki asks, raising her hand.

David turns his beam in her direction, and even though it's not directed at her, Gwen's heart flutters. "Today, it's mine! Sounds like fun, right?"

There's a few shrugs, a few nods, and mostly nonresponses.

The kids finish up and pile their trays on the counter before filing out of the hall. David leads the way, and by the end of it Gwen's sitting alone in the hall, save for the Quartermaster, who's sipping something a lot stronger than coffee in the kitchen. Gwen's tempted to ask for a sip, but the thought makes her stomach tighten uncomfortably. She pushes her barely touched food away and exits the room, tailing the string of kids who are following David like ducklings. It'd be cute if she could think of anything other than throwing herself in the lake.

David directs the kids to spread out evenly, distributing buckets and spades and little plastic flags, most of which are immediately taken by Nikki.

Gwen feels like a ghost, the way he avoids looking at her. Doesn't talk to her, doesn't reference her.

When the kids are all set up, David heads back to the cabin, brushing past Gwen and uttering the first words he's said to her all day. "Watch the campers."

It's not a question. He's gone before she can even turn her head towards him.

She watches him leave, the bounce in his step gone now that no one's watching.

No one he cares about.

She wants to follow. Even if she didn't say anything, even if he didn't look at her, she wishes she could follow him. He disappears into their cabin, leaving her hungover and terrified and irritated and in charge of a bunch of kids.

"Gwen? Can I make a space sand rocket?"

Gwen looks down at the little helmeted chump in front of her. "You don't need my permission for that."

"Yay!" Space Kid runs off, and Gwen sighs, dropping to sit in the grass edging the sand.

The day stretches on into eternity like that. David isn't around for half of it, and when he is he's distant and dismissive towards her. And she can't say that she doesn't deserve it, not one bit. She deserves everything he's doing and more.

 

Night rolls around, and Gwen curls up in the armchair, half-watching Bob Ross to avoid taking a xanax.

David, having sent the kids to their tents, steps inside. "I'm going out." Gwen cranes her neck around the side of the armchair to see him, picking up the keys from the desk. "I'll be back before morning."

"Bye-"

He's already gone.

Gwen takes that xanax.

  
True to his word, he's back before she wakes up. She doesn't know where he's finding the time to sleep, but he seems fine. As distant as yesterday, nothing's changed there, but he's fine.


	7. Liquid Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'll talk when he's ready, even if she isn't.

Gwen loses track of the days. Three, maybe four. He's gone every single night. She's a ghost every single day.

And nothing. Changes.

She was wrong. Being in the car with him wasn't hell. This.. this is so much worse. It's too much. She knows he deserves his time to be angry, she knows that he could be treating her a lot worse, but she's nothing without him. It's pathetic, isn't it? So much of her became so dependant on him and she never even noticed it happening.

As much as she doesn't deserve it, she needs him to talk to her again.

"I'm going out," he repeats for the nth night in a row, and she hears the clatter of keys being picked up. Her heart jumps into her throat, trying to sabotage her.

"Please don't leave."

David hesitates. He listens. He actually listens and pauses and Gwen did that, she made him acknowledge her. "Please don't leave," she repeats, quiet and tentative. "Please, just... Talk to me."

When he speaks, he sounds... neutral. Unaffected. "I don't know what to say yet."

Gwen swallows past the dryness in her mouth. "Can you at least... Tell me where you're going?"

David looks at the keys in his hand and sighs. "The lookout. I have a tent there."

"Oh. Okay. Um... be safe," she says, immediately kicking herself. What the fuck is wrong with her? Of course he's safe, he was probably born in the woods. He's probably part tree.

Part of her is relieved that he's not spending every night with Lisa. No matter what she does to push it down, that poisonous, petty part of here is there and celebrating.

David nods. "I'll be back later."

And maybe it's her imagination, maybe she's just so desperate for his attention that she's hearing something that isn't there, but his tone is just the tiniest bit softer, almost imperceptible.

She wants to believe him. He could be lying, sneaking out to see _her_ , and Gwen wouldn't be able to say he's not in his right to. She lied to him, after all.

 

The next day, she's sure she didn't imagine it. Little by little, his ice is melting, and the change is so tiny and gradual it might as well be melting on a footpath in the middle of winter but it's there. He glances at her. Once, over the course of the entire day. And Gwen curses her heart for skipping a beat.

Years pass like this. Or... it feels like years. Every day is long when you have no one to talk to.

Friday night rolls around. Elsewhere, people are partying and fucking and having generally good times, and Gwen's watching old sitcoms on a fishbowl-screened CRT.

David enters after his standard final lights out check. She waits for him to say it, the same thing he says every night.

"Are you busy?"

It takes her a second to realise he's talking to her. She freezes. "Me?"

Fuck. Stupid, idiot, of course he meant you, who else is _here_ -

"Yeah. Are you busy tonight?"

She shakes her head, staring at him. "N...o. Not really. What's up?"

"Do you want to..." David hesitates. "Talk?"

Her eyes widen. "Like... about..."

"Yeah."

"Oh, god," she breathes. "Um, yeah. O-of course. Like... here, or..."

"Here is fine."

David rounds the back of her chair to sit in his own, and she spots what's in his hand, confusion furrowing her brows.

He sets the carton down between them, the bottles inside clinking. "Hard cider," he sighs, in answer to Gwen's unspoken question. "...Apple." Her face must be asking all sorts of questions for her, because he looks away. "I need the help. To talk."

That, she understands. Liquid courage.

David picks up one the of the bottles and hesitates, eyes flicking to Gwen and back down. He looks like he was about to offer it to her, but instead he twists the cap off and takes a long, deep drink.

She's glad he didn't offer, actually. She still can't stomach the thought of drinking again.

He finishes the first one in seconds, setting it gently down and opening a second. This one, he works through a lot slower, taking sips and watching the TV. She follows his example, but neither of them are really focused enough to tell you the plot of the episode.

When David's face begins to flush pale red from the cider, he opens his mouth. "I don't... think I'm gonna see Lisa anymore."

Gwen aches to turn her head, to look at him, but from the corner of her eye she can see his gaze still trained on the television so she keeps hers there as well. "Really?"

"Mm." He takes a sip. "It's not really working."

"Why?” She asks quietly. “Is it because of me?"

David shakes his head. "No. Not exactly, not... not anything you did. Well, sort of." He groans. "She was like this before you... did that."

"Like what?"

He leans his head on his hand against the armrest. "She didn't trust me much," he says, quiet and weary and Gwen wishes she could take his every burden for him. "Asked about you a lot. She thought that since we share a cabin..." He toys with his bottle, dangling it from his fingers and swinging it side to side. "And then after what you did, she was _convinced_ it was gonna happen. Nothing I could say would make her think any different. And when she asked me to choose..." He laughs humourlessly, dragging his hand down his face. "We've only been on four dates. My job is _everything_ to me."

Something that was beginning to grow in Gwen shrivels back up. Right. His job.

David sets the second bottle down, reaching for a third. She doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to fill the air between them. "So, yeah. That's over." David shakes his head. "But it's fine. I've had enough of dating for now, anyway. It was fun for a while, but..." He shrugs.

She has to ask the question that's beating on the inside of her chest, trying to escape. "David...I totally get it if you do, and please be honest." She takes a deep breath. "Do you hate me?"

"Of course not."

And there it is, back again. That little tendril of hope that just won't stay down.

"I’m... angry. Upset. I feel..." David searches for the word. "Betrayed." Gwen winces. "But I could never hate you, Gwen."

A few minutes of silences pass, filled by tinny laugh tracks and hilarious scripted misunderstandings. She turns her head slightly to look at him. The light of the TV reflects in his eyes so brightly. His face almost seems to glow from it. He looks, more than anything, tired, and the flush on his face is more gorgeous than any painting.

She pulls her knees to her chest. "I'm sorry."

He takes a drink. "I know."

"Do you, though? I.. David, I don't have a lot of regrets. I have a ton of shit I wish I'd never done, but actual, true _regret_..." Her voice gets smaller. "I regret this."

"...I know."

David drains the third. Onto the fourth.

The seconds crawl by. The minutes- they're hitching a ride on the seconds’ backs.

"Lisa thinks you love me."

Gwen's heart stops. "Huh?" she manages to squeak.

David flicks his nail against his bottle, listening to the ringing noise the glass makes. "She kept saying it. On that night, y'know. She said that kind of stunt only comes from really crazy people, or people in love." Her breath is frozen solid in her lungs, her skin suddenly clammy. "I don't think you're crazy," he adds, voice soft. "Not... that much."

He's wrong. She's absolutely crazy, broken in all the ways that sound romantic on paper but when you translate them to the real world it just tends to push people away. She knows this about herself, and she's accepted it. But apparently he hasn't.

"I'm not asking... anything," David emphasises. "Just trying to get this out. It's been running around in my head for days. You don't have to tell me if she's right or wrong. It's okay."

Gwen always considered herself good with words. She studied creative writing, she grew up in a female dominated household- sharing feelings was the flavour of the hour, every hour.  
  
Tonight, she has nothing to say.

David doesn't push. He sits there, silent and unreadable, taking sips from his cider every minute or so. The episode ends, and the credits roll. Gwen doesn't move to fast forward. It feels like a single movement, the barest flinch, is going to spook him, send him running. She's walking on eggshells, she feels like she's _made_ of eggshells. The silence between episodes is staticky with the high pitched whine of the ancient TV.

David blinks, slow and languid. "Do you think she's right?" Gwen turns her head, just a fraction. "I mean-" He nearly trips over his words. "Not- I'm not asking you to tell me. I'm just.." he twirls his finger in the air. "Thinking. Out loud."

A moment's silence.

When he speaks again, it's quiet, and Gwen feels like he's not even aware she's in the room anymore. "Is she right? Is this... just inevitable?"

Every breath is jagged, a hot wind that dries up all her words, but she needs to say _something_ , she can't sit here in silence while David's entire view of her is under scrutiny. "I don't know."

Maybe she should've just kept quiet.

David finishes the bottle in his hand, eyeing the next, but he sets the empty one down and doesn't make a move to grab it. He leans his head on his palm, his thumb rubbing in circles on the side of his forehead. He sighs, long and slow, like every emotion storming inside him is just escaping in his breath. "I'm going to go to bed." He stands up.

Gwen slumps down like a puppet with its strings cut, but David's still standing there and after ten seconds her anxiety starts to swell. She breathes shallowly. There's a weight on her chest, a weight that's been there for days, and she can claw and claw at it till there's a gaping red hole in her chest but that weight will not. Go. _Away._

"Gwen..." He looks steadfastly out the window, his face stony. The expression is ill-fitting, like the skin is stretched badly over his face, like it just doesn't _fit_. "I don't know what's going to happen next. I don't know... how to feel. But right now, I'm angry. I'm upset, and- and you need to understand that I'll need time to get over that."

For the first time all night, David looks her right in the eye, and Gwen feels... small. She feels worthless. This feeling is... not new to her. The intensity, though. That's new. "I'm sorry," she manages, her voice a broken whisper. "I'm sorry."

He swallows, his mouth pressed in a thin line. "I know." With soft, padding footsteps, David disappears into his room.

Gwen watches another episode. Physically. Physically, her body is pointed to the television. Physically, her eyes are open, albeit glassy, the light reflecting off them. Physically, the tinny sounds of laugh tracks and two dimensional characters reach her ears. But she can't take any of it in.

Eventually, her feet carry her to bed. Her hands turn off the lights, the TV, strip her clothes away and pull the blankets back. None of it garners a thought, the entire process muscle memory.

She doesn't remember falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> David's really going through some shit about this. Lisa wasn't helping at all. Apple cider was, though.


	8. Balancing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen tries to figure out her next step on the path to fixing this.

The rest does her good. When Gwen wakes up, the sun is in her eyes- she forgot to close her curtains- and her body doesn't ache quite as much, but she's still far from okay. She tells herself it's just the lingering hangover, but even Space Kid wouldn't be fooled by that. It's funny, in a way. Gwen's read and written so many characters who sit around, their souls aching for a lost love, and a part of her never really thought it could happen. But here she is, physical pain making it hard to force herself up. It's pathetic.

At breakfast, Gwen collects her own tray again, but this time David doesn't ignore her as she sits. "Morning." It's quiet, more of a gesture than in invitation to talk, but that gesture is the olive branch between them, and she's not about to let it go without a fight.

"M- morning." God, she stuttered. Get it together.

David eats in silence, scanning the room every few minutes out of habit. As much as everyone gives him shit, David's dedicated to his job. More dedicated than Gwen could ever be.

After breakfast, the campers gather for that morning's activity. David announces "plate spinning" with that trademark smile on his face, and Gwen half expects him to hand the kids over to her and leave. But apparently, this one he's staying for.

Preston and Harrison team up, instructing the camp on how to really get into it, distributing sticks and plates accordingly. So, inevitably, after a couple broken plates and some very close scares involving ceramic shards and Nikki's thirst for human blood, Gwen confiscates the plates and replaces them with plastic ones.

"Why the fuck did we give them actual plates?" she hisses, standing next to David. Immediately, her stomach twists. She's just so used to commenting, so used to being able to talk to him that she got carried away.

Beside her, David gives a half shrug. "I thought it'd be authentic."

Oh god. Oh god, he didn't ignore her. He replied. Her eyes dart to the side, trying to glance without seeming obvious, by he's not looking at her. His arms are loosely crossed, his face more-or-less blank. He's still not ready to smile at her, but apparently at least a few words back and forth is back on the table.

Gwen's eyes burn, a prickling sensation behind them, and she blinks. She can't start crying in the middle of an activity. Again.

Without the cheerful, one-sided banter that used to fill the silence between them, time feels like it's conspiring against her, dragging its feet. Even David seems to sense the awkwardness, occasionally shuffling or fidgeting or darting in to help campers. Nobody really needs his help, though. Or, to be more accurate, nobody's really accepting it. Preston and Harrison have... actually got it covered pretty well.

So David stays standing on the sidelines. And Gwen sticks close. Not as close as she'd like to, not as close as she _used_ to, but she just wants to be... nearby. David doesn't seem to care.

Maybe he lied, and he does hate her. She definitely hates herself.

With nothing else to do, David pulls his phone from his pocket and swipes his thumb over the screen in a particular pattern that Gwen can't see well enough to catch, but she knows what it is. Her stomach hits her feet. All the years she's known this man, and he's never had a lock on his phone.

And now he does.

And it's because of _her._

Ever since that night, Gwen's been living in a fog. Time is fragile, unremarkable, and her attention can't seem to stick to anything but her own blunted self loathing.

A few times, the fog cleared. When David speaks to her, her thoughts sharpen, her attention on him, unwavering.

Seeing David quietly unlock his phone, the fog rolls back again, and the only thing beneath it is sharp, stabbing hatred, regret, shame. There's something so _real_ about seeing the impact she's had, even though she _knew_ it was there.

"I'm going to- bathroom," she chokes out, trying to keep her voice level as she quickly marches away. _Alright, Gwen. Don't fall apart. Don't fall apart, it's the middle of the day, he talked to you._

Without meaning to, Gwen slams the cabin door behind her. The temptation to cry yawns beneath her like a bottomless canyon, so inviting, begging her to just step in. But there's a foothold. There's one little thing she can grasp onto, and Gwen scrabbles for it like a cat being pushed into water.

He talked to her. He's melting, he's getting warmer, he might actually be _forgiving_ her and she _knows_ she doesn't deserve it but-

She needs to make sure she deserves it. She needs to do something, pay him back somehow.

It'll never be enough but Gwen feels like she's suddenly been given a purpose. A project, something to focus on to distract her from the holes inside her.

_Alright, Gwen. You've trained your whole life for this. Fake it till you make it._

Taking a deep, shaking breath, Gwen forces a smile onto her face, twisting and pushing it till it feels like it looks natural. She can do this.

The determination in her steps is false and hollow, rattling around inside her like the ugliest bell. It just needs to _look_ real.

If David's not going to act like David, she will.

Gwen leaves the cabin, trotting back to David's side, and he glances at her before looking back at the kids. Her mouth opens and it takes a few seconds to light the spark, but she gets there.

"How are they doing?" Her tone is cheery and light, and David pauses, his blank expression faltering. He seems a little thrown off, and Gwen doesn't know whether that's good or not but it's _different_.

"Uh, fine? Seems like they're having fun."

"Great!" She beams. It takes so much effort but she can do this.

It takes a lot more out of her than moping did, and Gwen's determination is already wavering. No. She needs to do this. For David's sake.

Standing next to him, forcing her smile, it's like walking across hot coals, or holding her breath. She can't do it for long. "I'm gonna see if anyone needs help!" she chirps, immediately marching towards a few of the campers who seem to be struggling with their plates. Max is one of them. His struggle in particular is that it's kind of hard to spin plates when your hands are are jammed deep in your pockets. Unless you're like, an expert maybe.

"Not feeling it?" she asks, crouching down beside him like David tends to do.

Max looks at her, disgust blatant on his face. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm, y'know. Helping?"

Max looks her up and down, then over to David. "What's with fuckface over there?"

"Fuckface? Really? You can do better than that."

"So can you."

Gwen's mouth presses into a thin line. "Alright, I think we've met the minimum requirement of interaction."

Max snickers as she straightens up, looking for someone else to distract herself with.

"Hey." Gwen looks down at Max's unimpressed scowl. "Whatever's going on with you guys, I just wanted to make sure you're aware that it's super obvious. You know. In case you thought you were being subtle."

Gwen opens her mouth and closes it again. All the years at this shithole camp, and the kids who always creep her out the most are the perceptive ones.

"He's not leaving the camp at night anymore," Max adds. "You got something to do with that?"

Gwen turns her attention to anything else. Anything, it doesn't matter. She doesn't need Max's snide little comments worming their way through her gut.

Her attempts to interact with any of the other campers have pretty much the same amount of success. Most of them actually seem confused, more than anything, that Gwen's trying to talk to them. She's a little confused herself.

After helping space kid up from Nurf "accidentally" mashing him into the dirt, Gwen risks looking over her shoulder, her eyes briefly passing over David. His face isn't any different, but he's looking at her, and Gwen quickly looks back down. Casual, casual, no eye contact.

God, how does David keep this up? It's like he actually likes kids, and Gwen really can't fathom it. She's already exhausted, and it's not even noon. Maybe she should dial it back a bit. Be a little less proactive. She takes her place, standing an appropriate length away at David's side.

Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she sees him shift, looking at Max with the tiniest frown. After a minute, he speaks, and Gwen actually jumps. "Hey, uh... What did Max say to you? Earlier?"

"He was- he was wondering if you were okay."

"Oh. Huh," David murmurs thoughtfully. No more, nothing else to say, but his face seems a little lighter. Or maybe it's just Gwen's imagination.

Gwen expends every ounce of energy she has into pretending things are okay. And the weirdest part is... it's kind of working. David won't start conversations, but he replies, and that's more than she deserves.

But she needs to do better.

 

The next morning, Gwen's alarm goes off at an unholy hour, and she very nearly reneges on her plan. With more bags under her eyes than an airline, Gwen drags herself up and out of bed.

She dresses in the dark, her eyes too sensitive to deal with even her lamp right now.

David's door is still shut, and it will be for another half hour. She creeps past and slips out, heading for the mess hall. Outside, the sky is still dark, the faintest hint of light peeking over the horizon. Even the air seems sleepy, sounds muted as she walks.

The lights of the mess hall are on already. Gwen pushes the door open, peering inside. The Quartermaster rattles about in the kitchen, pulling various equipment from cupboards and piling them on the counter. He looks at Gwen, raising an eyebrow.

"You helpin'?" he grunts.

"Um... Yeah. What do you need?"

The Quartermaster gestures to a large, empty mixing bowl. "Recipe's in the book."

QM is a man(?) of few words. Gwen picks up the battered notebook resting on the counter beside the bowl and flips it open, hoping the rest explains itself. The book is half filled with written recipes, and as Gwen flips through it occurs to her that the neat handwriting is familiar. Her own handwriting always looked like chickenscratch next to David's, when he actually tries.

"Page 5," the Quartermaster grunts without turning around. Gwen flips to the fifth page and reads the title. Oh, right. Pancakes. Should be easy.

The ingredients are already set out on the bench, and something about that makes Gwen uneasy. She's always wondered if the Quartermaster actually slept, and so far there's been not a lot of evidence for it. Even now, he seems as awake as usual, although that's not saying much when his general state is quiet grunting.

Gwen's not much of a chef, but how hard can pancakes be? She begins to measure out ingredients, checking the book every five seconds. Okay, so far so good. Flour, eggs, butter, sugar.. salt? She squints. Well, this is David's recipe, and considering the quality of the ingredients they're given, he's never done a half-bad job.

Behind her, the Quartermaster is involved in his own prep, unnervingly silent.

Gwen clears her throat as she mixes. "So... You and David do this every day, huh?"

"Yup."

Alright, off to a great start. Some good conversating happening here.

"Do you, like, chat? Or something?"

The Quartermaster shakes his head, gesturing to a little radio tucked in the corner shelf. "He likes to sing."

"...Really?"

"Yup."

She looks down at her mixture, dismayed to find it's still pretty lumpy. Maybe some music would give her the energy.

Momentarily abandoning her bowl, Gwen turns the radio on, expecting country music or something else involving a lot of acoustic guitar. Instead, the plastic speakers begin to pump the room full of the second half of the latest hot pop song by the latest hot young-looking singer.

She blinks. Pop? Really? That's so... unlike him. Although, the more she thinks about it, the more she can picture David bouncing around the kitchen, singing along while he whips up breakfast.

The image makes her heart flutter painfully. She wishes she could see it.

She looks at the Quartermaster, gauging his reaction, but he doesn't visibly react. She'll take that as him being okay with it. His hook glints in the yellowed kitchen light, something red staining it, and Gwen chooses to direct her attention away. Whatever he's doing, she doesn't need to be involved.

The song ends and another begins, something she's never heard but infects her with an addictive baseline. This is.. oddly nice. She'd never volunteer to do this every day, but there's a weird sort of surrealism to it, being awake before anyone else, wrapped up in her own little world of pancake batter and cheesy music. Even the Quartermaster seems less unsettling.

She doesn't hear the door opening as David steps inside, his uniform perfect as usual. "Gwen?"

Her blood freezes, a knee-jerk reaction, but she forces a smile onto her face. "Good morning."

All the tension she'd managed to forget returns at the sight of those confused green eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

She swallows her fear. "I couldn't get back to sleep, and I figured I might as well lend a hand, so..." She shows him the bowl in her hands, the batter almost smooth.

David looks... confused, more than anything. Which she expected- she's never even offered to help before, let alone actually taken action. She knows it's kind of transparent, a pathetic attempt to get him to like her again, but... right now, this is what she has. This is how she copes- how she's always coped. Fill her time with projects and goals, even if they're useless.

Even if the goal is sometimes just to wake up.

"Anyway, I've got this covered, so why don't you go do something fun?" she suggests, wincing at how awkward the words sound.

David looks a little lost, his schedule slightly upset. "Um... okay. I guess I can do some activity planning."

Gwen resists the urge to roll her eyes. She doesn't have that luxury anymore, but honestly- she suggests something fun and he immediately goes to work?

David retrieves his clipboard and takes a seat at one of the empty tables, flipping the pages back and pulling a pen from his pocket. Gwen's stomach tightens. He's going to do it here? Of all places?

Her shoulders are tense as she checks the recipe, deciding the best thing to do is push on. What other option is there? The song changes, and Gwen's thankful for the distraction because she actually knows this one.

And apparently, so does David, because when a rhythmic tapping sound reaches her Gwen looks up to see David, still writing, the fingers of his free hand tapping along on the surface of the table. Her heart jumps into her throat. It's trying to escape, pull her towards him like a magnet, but she's still afraid.

These tiny things suddenly mean so much. David knows the same song she does. David likes to sing along while he cooks. David handwrites recipes in a little battered notebook.

Gwen's chest hurts. Why had she ever thought he wasn't worth looking at? Somehow, David become the only thing worth seeing, and as soon as she'd realised she lost the privilege. Emotions boil up in her gut, sharp and burning, eating her from the inside out. She wasn't kidding when she said she regretted what she did, how she acted. She could've handled it all so much better, and her stupid pride and jealousy and idiocy got in the way.

She closes her eyes, trying to condense every thought into the music. Just focus on the music.

Gwen begins to hum. Her hands feel clammy, her legs rubbery, like she's about to speak in front of an auditorium full of people instead of quietly humming in a tiny little kitchen in the early morning.

But David doesn't stop tapping. Gwen keeps humming, eventually transitioning into soft-sung words for the chorus. David keeps tapping. It's a point of connection between them, the closest she's felt to normal since it all began.

When the song ends, her eyes prickle.

The batter is smooth now. It's been smooth for a while. Gwen can't really stretch this out much longer. "Hey, QM, what do you want me to do with this?" she asks, holding out the bowl. The Quartermaster turns, holding a slab of marbled meat that he's busy slicing into thin strips.

"Fridge," he grunts. "Cook em up later."

Gwen covers the bowl in plastic wrap and slides it onto one of the fridge shelves. "What next?"

David's voice rings out from the doorway. "I can take over, Gwen. Thank you."

Gwen's thoughts stutter to a stop like she's in highschool facing the popular boy. "U-um, sure, yeah, I'll- I'll get out your way." She steps past him, her shoulder brushing his, and ignores the tingle that flares up under her skin.

She's exhausted, too tired to hang around and endure emotions anymore. There's just over half an hour left before the campers begin waking up, so Gwen heads back to her room to lay down for a few more minutes.

The whole walk back, Gwen keeps picturing David and his pop music. One day she'll see it, or die trying. It's the lamest, most adorable thing she's ever heard. Her heart aches.

 

At breakfast, Gwen's the first to sit down, and David joins her a few minutes later, a tin mug of tea in hand.

"Good job on the pancakes." He smiles, and Gwen wonders if she's still sleeping, dreaming this up.

"All I did was follow your recipe."

David shrugs. "Still! You did a good job."

Be still, her beating heart. God, this is unbearable. Her chest won't stop tightening and her stomach won't stop swooping when he's around, and it's _torture_ not knowing what he's thinking. Maybe what she's doing is working, and David's beginning to like her again. Or maybe-

Gwen's stomach drops.

Maybe he just pities her.

That's it, isn't it? He doesn't actually like her. She's not a good person, not a good friend to him, but they work together and David's too nice to be mean to someone for long. He's treating her kindly because he knows she has no one else. He feels sorry for her pathetic ass, probably doesn't wanna risk having a suicide at the camp. Too much trouble.

Gwen tries her best to smile today but it's... it's hard. It's _draining_.

The moment her resolve finally stops clinging by its last few threads is when a familiar yellow SUV screeches up to a halt in front of the mess hall, earning the attention of every camper on the field.

And David.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That slight cliffhanger????? Oh no?????
> 
> (You miiight get to know what happens sooner if you leave a comment or kudos ;3)


	9. No, Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen can't let it happen again. It'll break David, she knows it will, so she needs to get herself together and stand up to Campbell.

Cameron Campbell steps out, his chest puffed and fists on his hips. "Hi there!" he booms across the way, his bright grin nearly blinding in the afternoon sun.

Badminton is immediately forgotten (and after all that effort Gwen put into stringing up the net, too) as David practically sprints over to the man. Gwen follows, albeit at a much slower pace. The campers don't complain most of them happy for the excuse to stop playing.

"Sir! What are you doing here?" David asks.

Cameron smoothes a hand over his hair, dripping confidence. It's almost physically sickening how full of himself he is. "Well, I had some time to kill while a few things die down, and I thought, hey, why not drop in on my favourite band of rascals?"

Gwen narrows her eyes, juxtaposition to the way David's widen.

"That's so generous of you, sir!" he gasps. It kinda hurts (okay, really hurts) that the thing that brings David back to one hundred percent David-ness is a visit from their shifty employer who broke his heart.

"I know," Cameron chuckles. "Tell you what, Davey, why don't you take me around? I might as well check in on how everything's running."

"Oh! Absolutely, sir!" David says, and then hesitates. He looks at Gwen. "Could you keep an eye on the kids for a little bit, Gwen? I'd really appreciate it!"

Inwardly, Gwen screams. "Sure," she shrugs. "It's fine."

As David bounds away, the smile on Gwen's face drops away. There's no point in smiling if he's not looking.

"Gwen?" Nikki calls, tossing a shuttlecock over to try and get her attention. Gwen squints at her.

"What?"

"Do we have to keep playing?"

"What do _you_ think?"

Nikki considers the racquet in her hand. "Can we keep using the bats?"

"They're not bats. They're racquets.”

“Then why is it called bat-mintin?” Nikki asks, narrowing her eyes like Gwen's trying to pull a fast one.

Gwen sighs. “Whatever. Yeah, sure. Do whatever you want, just stay where I can see you."

Nikki hollers her excitement, nearly hitting Neil in the face as she flails.

A wave of exhaustion pulls Gwen to the dirt, and she leans against the trunk of a tree, her eyes glazing over as she loses herself in her thoughts. The campers are happy to mill around, playing their own games or following her example and finding somewhere cool to sit and chat.

Nikki, Gwen suspects, is some kind of energy vampire, pulling everyone else’s spark to make her own fire bigger. As it is, she's the only one still running around in the hot sun, and she doesn't even look like she's breaking a sweat. Huh. Guess you _can_ play badminton by yourself, if you try hard enough.

Neil is right out, choosing to sit on a fallen log, nicely shaded and not too far from Gwen. Naturally, trouble follows, in the form of the mean-eyed little fluffball David's so fond of.

Max takes a seat beside Neil, digging his heels into the dirt and shoving the sleeves of his hoodie halfway up his arms. Even he's too warm for this shit. He eyes Gwen with that same tired scowl he always has.

Gwen returns the look with one of her own.

"You're a really shitty counselor, you know," he mumbles, apropos of nothing.

Gwen sneers. "If you want David to come back and force you into sports on a fucking million degree day, be my guest."

Max shakes his head. "Wasn't really complaining."

So.. was it supposed to be some kind of weird compliment? "What do you want, kid?" Max looks at her, and something in his gaze makes her skin crawl. " _What?_ " she snaps, her irritation flaring.

Max smirks. "I didn't say anything."

"Then fuck off and quit staring at me."

"Alright, alright, I'll look at something else." Max scans the area, his gaze landing on something behind her. One of his eyebrows raises. "Well, _that's_ interesting."

Gwen can't help it. She's nosy. She looks.

David's backed up against the wall of the mess hall, looking small next to the man who towers over him, a hand beside David's head. A sick feeling creeps from her stomach to her throat, burning cold tendrils choking her. Everything inside her screams to look away, but self-destructive behaviour is a specialty of hers.

She can see their mouths moving, words she can't hear, and one of Campbell's hands drops to ghost his fingers down David's side.

David smiles.

But he shifts. He twists away, subtle but still obvious, one of his hands gently brushing Cameron's away.

Gwen blinks.

Cameron, too, doesn't seem to get it. He withdraws the hand, instead moving it up to brush David's jaw, and nothing makes sense anymore because David's still smiling softly, his face is red, but again he moves away. His fingers wrap around Campbell's wrist, gently coaxing it away. Campbell looks at him, asks something. David shakes his head slightly and answers him.

Campbell straightens up, his chest puffed out. Gwen watches as they talk for a moment longer, her muscles tense and coiled, ready to spring out of view if either of them glance her way. Instead, the conversation seems to end, Campbell stepping into the mess hall and David slumping against the wall.

Gwen doesn't know what to think, drawing her knees to her chest and facing forward again. David didn't really turn him down, did he? It's _Cameron Campbell_ . Her mind fills in the conversation for her. Cameron pushed, pressured him to slip away from the camp for a moment to use that adorable mouth, but David said no, his job is important. He'd respectfully ask _Cam_ to wait till the night. And then when night falls, David's going to take a boat over to the island and Gwen will be alone.

She can't let it happen. She can't. This isn't- this isn't like Lisa, this is for David, it's not for her. She needs to do something.

"So, that was interesting," Max comments, and it almost startles Gwen. She'd forgotten he was there. She looks at him. Just looks. No mask, nothing to cover what she is inside. Max's expression grows uncomfortable.

"...Whatever," he 'tch'es, looking away, even though Gwen didn't say anything. He gets to his feet. "I don't wanna be here when David comes back. Come on, Neil." The pair fade back into the throng, finding somewhere else to sit.

A few moments later, footsteps approach her, crunching in the dirt.

David takes a seat on the log Max has just vacated. "Thanks for watching them!" he chirps, too chipper to be someone who just shot their wet dream down. "Looks like the game fell apart, huh?"

"Always does when you're not here," she replies absently. As far as David knows, no one saw any of what just happened, and she'd like to keep it that way.

Cameron's SUV doesn't disappear by dinner, but Gwen still has the horrible feeling she's living on borrowed time. Even when he's localised to the camp, Campbell is slippery, hard to track down.

While David's watching over the mess hall, Gwen finally manages to corner her boss while he's fetching a canvas duffle bag from his trunk. She clears her throat. "Mr Campbell?"

He looks over his shoulder. "Oh, it's just you." He frowns. ".. Gwen."

And even though he said her name, actually said it right, there's something really, really weird about the way he says it. It's still _wrong_. She squares her shoulders and locks eyes with him. "That's right. And- and I have something I need to say."

"If it's about a raise, ask Davey. He'll explain." (Which means he'll rephrase Cameron's excuses into something almost believable.)

She shakes her head. "That's not what this is about. I need to talk to you about David."

"He's doing a fine job, isn't he?" Cameron slams the trunk shut, and Gwen gets the feeling it's supposed to be a power play, but she refuses to let it get to her.

"Sir, with all due respect-" none- "the last time you were here, you didn't stay long. You weren't around to see what you did to him afterward." Her heart is racing, adrenaline coursing through her. "And it took him so, so long to get over that. He is _not_ the kind of guy you can just fuck and abandon. So I'm here to tell you it- it can't happen again. For his sake."

Cameron looks her up and down appraisingly. She doesn't budge.

"Straight to the point, aren't you?" His grin doesn't change, but the tone of his voice drops, just a hair on the side of menacing. "Well, I can assure you, that won't be a problem." He hoists the duffle bag around his shoulder, one of his large hands landing heavily on her shoulder. His voice grows softer, darker. "But now might be a good time to remind you, Gwendolyn, that employee relationships are strictly forbidden."

Gwen's legs are in serious danger of giving out, but she grits her teeth in his face. "I believe that extends to boss/employee relationships too, sir."

Cameron chuckles. "The boss makes the rules. The boss can replace problem employees, too, you know."

"Right." Gwen nods, folding her arms against her chest. "But can he guarantee finding another girl willing to keep her mouth shut about the shitton of illegal activity you're running through here?"

For a tense couple of seconds, Gwen and Campbell stare each other down.

Campbell's grin widens and he gives Gwen's shoulder a heavy pat. "You're more headstrong than I gave you credit for. You remind me of a young Burmese woman I know. May or may not be my daughter, it's a little unclear, but she's just as persistent and stubborn as you." He shakes his head. "Very... very persistent. But I just don't do paternity tests." He hitches the bag higher on his shoulder. "Anyway! I'll be leaving in the morning, and I expect you and Davey to keep things ticking over nicely! Remember, You've never met me!"

"I- what?"

"You've never met me," Cameron repeats. "Trust me, it'll make things easier for everyone if it ever comes up."

"No, I mean, David-"

"He'll be fine, he's a big boy. Can't say I wouldn't have liked to go another round, but if he doesn't want to, who am I to force him?"

Gwen resists the urge to screw up her face. "That's... surprisingly decent of you, sir."

"Well, I need him. The kid'll work for minimum wage, and he does whatever I tell him to!"

"Huh. Maybe less decent than I thought," she comments under her breath, but Cameron laughs.

"My dear Gwen," and how weird is it that he's actually saying her name? "Decent men don't get things done."

She can't think of anything else she needs to say, so Gwen steps aside. With a nod, Cameron disappears in the direction of the lake pier.

That conversation was very, very eye opening. Although now she had a lot of pent up adrenaline left from pumping up to yell at her boss and probably get fired.

Gwen gouges a few furrows in the dirt with her heels, thinking. She should've asked about their conversation earlier. Although that would mean admitting she'd seen the whole thing. And Campbell gave her the answer she'd been looking for- whatever David had said to him, it had been a rejection. A knot of pride swells in her heart. She knows how easy it can be to let yourself fall into that trap, especially when someone's hand is clutching your hip. But David stuck to his guns, and all it took was lingering trauma from the first time.

She joins the campers just as David's distributing dessert.

"Oh! Gwen! Would you mind giving me a hand, here?" he calls over the ruckus. The kids are going nuts, there's pudding on the walls, it's in the ceiling, it's in his _hair_ \- for fuck's sake, she was only outside for ten minutes!

Hands on her hips, Gwen plants her feet apart, takes a deep breath, and roars. "EVERYBODY SIT THE _FUCK_ DOWN OR I SWEAR TO GOD, NO DESSERT FOR A WEEK FOR _ANYONE._ "

The cacophony stops immediately. Even David looks chastised, which Gwen has to actively try not to smile at.

"All yours, David."

"Thank you!" He smiles at her, running his hand through his hair and looking dismayed when it comes away with pudding on it. He takes a napkin from the counter and wipes it off. "Alright, everyone, no more throwing, sculpting, flinging, mashing, or-" he looks at Nikki and Neil- "attempting to make sentient the pudding! And after dessert, we're going to to clean this mess up together!"

A collective groan goes up around the room.

He puts his hands on his hips, face sympathetic. "I know, cleaning's no fun. But actions have consequences."

Oh, good, there's that sick feeling again. Gwen had almost begun to think it wasn't coming back.

When the pudding that doesn't grace the walls is safely relocated to camper's stomachs, the Quartermaster distributes paper towels and buckets of soapy water, and everyone reluctantly sets to work. David, too, crouches down and begins to scrub at a stain on the floor, and after a moment Gwen takes a paper towel and joins him. Normally, she wouldn't, but it seems like a good opportunity to put herself in a good light.

Plus... Well, David really didn't hesitate to jump in and help the campers. He deserves a hand. Helping out isn't that bad.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "That was supposed to be tomorrow's pudding!"  
> "And it will continue to be tomorrow's pudding."
> 
> (The next chapter coming up is one of my favourites, and as you all know, swelling my giant ego with comments is what makes it happen sooner. Wink.)


	10. Everyday Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason Gwen hasn't been fired after this long. Occasionally, she does her job.

Despite David doing the lion's share of the work, the mess hall transforms into the clean hall quicker than Gwen had expected. He collects all the discarded paper towels and disposes of them before turning around to face the kids.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it? Working together, we got that mess out of the way like _that!"_ he says with a snap of his fingers.

Max rolls his eyes and Gwen has to wrestle with the nascent urge to dropkick the little cretin in the face, even though a couple weeks ago she would've done the exact same thing.

David herds the kids to the shower block for some much-needed de-puddifying. Gwen hangs around, backup to be called in any time. Until then, she's fine to let David do what he does best.

His face is so _expressive_ around the kids. She swears his eyes are a little bigger, shinier. He's almost cartoonish. Gwen finds her resting bitch face leaning more towards a tiny smile. He crouches down to the level of each kid that approaches him, his face displaying an openness that strikes her as something that should be vulnerable, but he wears it like a shield, or a badge of honor. She leans against the wall and crosses her arms, trying to direct attention away from herself as she watches him.

Space Kid approaches him, asking something and gesturing to a smear of pudding on the inside of his helmet (which should be impossible, but not a lot surprises Gwen anymore). David nods and quietly replies, reaching out to help him pull the glass bowl from his head. It takes a bit of manoeuvring, and David nearly falls flat on his ass, but the two of them manage to pull him free.

Space Kid beams, running back to the row of shower stalls and disappearing inside one. David watches him go with a soft smile, then looks down at the dessert-streaked helmet.

Gwen's eyes track him while he walks to the sinks and fits it underneath one of the taps, filling it up partway. He's oddly focused, reaching in and scratching at the pudding till it dissolves in the water. It's different to the neutral expression he kept a couple days ago, softer and more inward. He doesn't even seem to realise she's watching him. When it's clean, David upends the glass bowl and leaves it to dry on the counter.

He'd make a good dad.

And that was the weirdest, most unsettling thought she's has ever had about a coworker.

He looks up, catching her eye, and her stomach jolts. Outwardly, she remains unfazed. David smiles, a little smaller than his usual beam and a fuckton more awkward, but this is progress in leaps and bounds. Gwen returns the smile with one she's sure looks just as uncomfortable.

Their tenuous contact is broken by a sharp clattering and the solid thunk of flesh hitting cement. A startled cry bursts from one of the shower stalls, and both counselors simultaneously stiffen up.

"That's Nerris," David breathes, head whipping towards the noise. "Nerris! Are you okay?"

A pained whine begins to cut through the sound of the water, growing sharper and louder in the manner of a child who's only just starting to realise they're hurt. David looks at Gwen, the desperate look in his eyes all too familiar. The look that means " _help._ "

She lurches into action. Gwen may not be exactly motherly, but there's a kid in distress on the other side of this door and that's a serious situation.

"What should I-" David stammers, and she cuts him off.

"I got this."

Bracing herself, Gwen lifts a boot and slams it hard against the door. On the other side, the cheap, simple latch lock pops out of its screws. She can fix it later. This isn't the first door she's busted in at this camp.

She steps in and pulls back the plastic curtain. Nerris is curled up in the corner of the stall, a gentle keening cry coming from her as she clutches her ankle. Gwen reaches through the spray and yanks the shower handles, cutting off the water. Her uniform gets a little wet, but she doesn't give a fuck. It's just water.

"Where's her towel?" She turns around and David's already holding it out, shielding his eyes dutifully. Gwen takes it and crouches down. "Nerris? What happened? Can you stand?"

Nerris shakes her head. "I fell," she whimpers. "I think my foot is broken."

"If it was broken, you'd be screaming, don't worry. It might be sprained. Come here before you get cold and I'll take a look at it." As Gwen wraps the shaking girl in a towel and scoops her up, it occurs to her that this is definitely going on her diminutive but existent "Camp Mom" record, the resident red-haired record keeper (aka David) having witnessed the whole thing. Ugh.

She turns around and David steps out of the way, his eyes wide. "I'm gonna take her to the cabin, get her fixed up. Can you grab her clothes and bring them with you?" she instructs. He nods.

A couple kids peer out of their own stalls, wrapped in towels or slightly damp clothes, and as Gwen leaves the shower block she hears David directing them all to go back to getting ready for bed. She carries Nerris to the counselor's cabin, barely a minute’s walk, but when she begins to shiver Gwen tightens her grip out of instinct.

She nudges the door open with her elbow and sets Nerris down on her own blue armchair. Normally, she'd keep this kind of thing to the mess hall, but at this time of night that place is dark and drafty and may or may not contain a skulking quartermaster.

Nerris's cries have softened to sniffles, and she gazes up at Gwen with big, teary eyes. Without her glasses, her hat or those stupid ears, she seems so vulnerable.

"How's it feeling?" Gwen asks, kneeling down.

"It hurts..."

"Lemme see it." She gingerly inspects the foot Nerris had been clutching, careful not to touch it too much. It's beginning to swell, but she's pretty confident in her earlier assessment- it's just a sprain. "Well, it's definitely not broken, okay? It's just sprained. We'll wrap it up and you can sit here for a bit and- I mean, we have cartoons and stuff, so you can watch those or something for a bit?" she suggests, and Nerris nods, wiping her hand against her nose.

David knocks at the door, and Gwen calls out. "We're good."

He slips inside, still shielding his eyes just to be safe. He holds out a bundle, offering it to her. "I've got her clothes."

"Thanks." She smiles, standing up and taking them from him. Her fingers brush his, shockingly warm against the cool fabric. _Not the time to pine, Gwen, seriously not_.

While David keeps his eyes covered like the perfect gentleman he is, Gwen helps Nerris into her pyjamas and begins to rub the excess water from her hair.

"Can I have my ears?" the girl sniffles, muffled under the towel.

Gwen tugs it away. "Huh?"

"My ears." Nerris points to the two little plastic points beside the rest of her things.

Gwen doesn't really understand the whole fantasy dress up thing, but she has to admit that out of all the campers, Nerris is one of her soft spots. Maybe it's something to do with the girl's darker complexion, similar hairstyle (it's a good look) or the way she seems ready to take on the world with a tin can and a pointy hat. More than once, Gwen's wished _she_ could magic up some bravery like that. "Oh. Yeah, of course." She passes her both the set of ears and her glasses (which she didn't ask for because apparently ears take priority but Gwen's pretty sure she needs them to see.) "David, could you grab the first aid kit?"

"Sure thing!" David returns a moment later with a red plastic box. "Here," he offers, placing it on the floor beside her.

"Thanks." She opens it up and fishes out a rolled bandage and some pain-killer infused gel. They don't have a huge supply of this, since apparently Campbell seems to be a big believer in “walk it off” camp, but it's moments like this Gwen feels like she can justify using some.  She holds it up, showing it to Nerris. "Alright, so this stuff is gonna help with the pain, and while I'm doing this, David's going to go get you an ice pack."

David blinks. "I am? I mean, I am!"

He trots away to complete his mission, and Gwen sighs, shaking her head.

She rubs the gel into Nerris' skin, mumbling apologies for the soreness in what she hopes is a soothing voice. Caretaking doesn't come that naturally to her.

David returns, juggling the frozen gel pillow from side to side. "I got it!"

"Great." Gwen unwraps the bandage and sets it against Nerris' shin, beginning to twine it around and around. She can feel his eyes on her as the wraps the injury, and it's almost irritating how distracting it is. Not that she'd prefer he still wasn't looking at her, but lately his attention has become kind of all-consuming for Gwen, and she doesn't exactly appreciate her own head’s desire to drop everything and bask in it. "Alright, kid," she says, clipping the bandage into place, "got any healing spells?"

Nerris shakes her head. "Not right now."

"That's okay. We've got the Muggle solution right here." Gwen holds her hand out to David and he gives her the icepack, shockingly cold on her palm.

Nerris cracks a smile as Gwen arranges her foot on the couch, the icepack draped around the swelling. "Do you have any magic?" she asks, her voice low like it's a secret between them.

Gwen shakes her head. "I think I lost it in college. Maybe in one of the frat houses."

Nerris giggles. "Are you a _squib_ , then?"

Gwen gets to her feet. "If I didn't know what that was, I'd be insulted." She digs out an old VHS of some Looney Tunes- a classic, in her opinion- and sets it up to play on the tiny CRT. "Alright, kid?"

Nerris nods. "Thank you! My foot feels a lot better."

Gwen smiles at her, borderline tender. "Cool. You can stay up till lights out, then I'm taking you to your tent. Deal?"

"Deal!"

Gwen gathers up the first aid kit, throwing the damp towel into her designated laundry corner. Standing behind his armchair, David's eyes flicker from the TV to her, and their eyes lock for a moment. The look on his face is hard to decipher, but something in it feels warm, like whatever he's thinking it must be good. She hopes.

She can only bear it for a few seconds before she has to break to contact and busies herself putting the kit away. Her face is burning, and not for the first time she's thankful that she isn't as pale as David. Makes it a lot easier to hide her blush when she's obsessively analysing every little flicker of his face.

While Nerris watches cartoons, Gwen joining her on David's seat, David checks in on the campers, making sure they all made it to their tents and didn't leave any showers on in a poorly planned attempt to flood the camp, _Max._ After his rounds are done, he returns to the cabin.

"Gwen?" He says her name so gently, and Gwen's powerless to stop the shiver that runs down her spine and into her fingertips.

"Hm?"

"It's lights out. I think Nerris should get to bed."

She looks at the girl in the chair beside her and decides he's right. Her eyes are drooping, her head slumping against the armrest. It's been a big day for her.

"Alright." Gwen hauls herself to her feet. "Come'ere, sweetheart."

Not really something she'd usually call any of the campers (ever) but right now her chest is all fluttery and she's feeling kinda good and it just slipped out. Not to mention, from the corner of her eye Gwen sees the surprise that flickers across David's face, and something about that is so satisfying.

She scoops Nerris up for the second time, balancing the sleepy child on her hip. She's not about to let the kid walk back to her tent half asleep and with a sprained ankle. David's eyes burn holes in the back of her head but Gwen plays it cool, looking straight ahead as she carries Nerris out.

When she returns to the cabin, David's curled up in his armchair in front of the the TV, his attention trained on the cartoons that Gwen never actually turned off. She hesitates before settling into her own chair, her nerves on high alert. David seems too absorbed in the old hand-drawn animation, and eventually she relaxes. Marginally.

"Hey, Gwen?"

She jumps. "Yeah?"

He turns to look at her, his face saturated in concern. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

Her mouth goes dry. "...Go ahead."

David hesitates, the tip of his tongue poking out to swipe nervously along his lower lip, and it's the most fucking distracting thing she's ever seen. Her heart beats hard against her ribs, hard enough to leave bruises on her insides. "What... What's a 'squib'?"

"Oh my god."

Panic washes over his face. "O-oh no, should I not have said that? Was it offensive? I'm sorry! I-"

"David."

David shuts up.

"You've never seen _Harry Potter?_ "

"Uh... No." David frowns. "I know it's about wizards, though," he adds helpfully.

Gwen raises an eyebrow, grinning. "Good enough. A squib is like, someone from a magic family who doesn't have any magic themselves."

"Oh." David looks thoughtful. "And... 'Muggle'? That's a wizard thing too?"

Gwen nods. "That's just normal people. No magic at all."

"Guess that makes me a Muggle," he says, a goofy smile on his face. She grins back.

"You're going to _have_ to watch the movies. I've got the first three on my laptop already."

David's smile softens, and her pulse spikes. "A movie night could be fun."

They smile at each other for a moment. It's terrifying, and it's riveting, and hope swells in her chest. It feels like walking a highwire, like balancing over a yawning pit. She can walk forward or she can step away from the edge.

Gwen looks back at the TV.

Damn it.

They stay like that, curled up in their chairs in front of the cartoons of Gwen's childhood, until a gentle sound pulls her attention away. She looks over to find David's head tilted against the armrest, his eyes shut and his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

A tension in her stomach unwinds. She hates this- hates how tense she is around him now, even when he's not paying attention to her. It's no longer the unpleasant feeling of being hated, or waiting to be told that she might be better off seeking other employment. This is... something else. It isn't the fear of his anger, because the closer they get to where they were, the harder her heart pounds when he's nearby.

The tape rolls to its finish while she's still staring at him, watching him breathe. She's aware that's probably a very creepy thing to do, but self control isn't her greatest virtue, and at least this didn't hurt anyone. He's just...

Well, he's pretty.

She never paid much attention, not till it was her job to get him ready for his night with Campbell. The closer she looked, the more she started to notice.

The pale freckles painted across his face are her favourite. She doesn't have anything like that, not with the colour of her skin. The ones she can see on him right now make her want to reach out and draw lines between them. Little David constellations on his pretty face.

She feels stupid for even thinking that. Doesn't mean the thought goes away, though.

His hair is starting to droop, hairspray all worn out from a long day of... Campe-ing Diem. His mouth is open, just slightly, and a tiny flash of neat, well-cared-for teeth seems, to Gwen, oddly endearing. If someone ever told her she slept like that she'd probably be mortified, because she'd just look like a passed out walrus, she's pretty sure.

David makes it look _delicate_. Makes it look...kissable, almost.

But that's weird. Weird and not helpful because he doesn't like her that way and he probably never will, and even if he did Gwen would be doing him a favour by turning him down. As long as she had the strength to. Which she wouldn't.

Suddenly, a sharp screeching noise blares from the TV, bright, multicoloured stripes decorating the screen. Gwen jumps and David's eyes snap open. He straightens up, and Gwen dives forward to turn the tv off, bringing back the blessed silence. But it's too late- David's awake and the moment is over.

"Fucking forgot those things do that," she hisses, pressing a hand to her face.

"Haven't heard that sound in ages," David sleepily agrees, stretching upwards with a yawn.

Gwen swallows past the sudden, inexplicable flood of saliva in her mouth, watching him from the corner of her eye. Stupid adorable bastard with his stupid pale giraffe neck that would look really good covered in hickies-

"I'm gonna head to bed," David sighs. "It's been a _really_ long day."

"Sure... uh, has," Gwen agrees in a breathless wheeze.

"Night, Gwen." He offers her a lethargic smile. She blinks.

"Yeah.. goodnight."

He disappears into his room. That's where he stays all night, and when Gwen wakes up, that ugly yellow SUV is gone and David's still here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwen X positive interactions with the campers: the real OTP.
> 
> (I know I sound like a broken record but I lovelovelove hearing what you guys think, sooo... :D)


	11. Friendly Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen tells a scary story, but the scariest part of the night is having to be honest.

All morning, while Gwen showers and dresses and considers make-up (she can't, because it would be weird if she started wearing it _now_ , and now she's kind of regretting not setting it as the status quo) she considers how to bring up the whole Campbell thing. She has half the story- David refused, somehow, and didn't get fired. But what really tugs at her curiosity is exactly what he _said_.

So at breakfast, while David's flipping through the _Sleepy Peak Times,_  Gwen clears her throat. "So," she starts, and David doesn't look up, but his head tilts slightly towards her, an indication that he's listening. "Looks like Campbell's car is gone."

"Is it?" David looks up, the surprise on his face pathetically transparent. Of course he already knew, he probably noticed the second he woke up, but he doesn't want to seem too eager, and Gwen bites her lip to stifle a smile.

“You really didn't notice? I kinda figured you might have… said goodbye.” _From his bed,_ she wants to add.

David shakes his head. “He must have left after I fell asleep! I would've liked to see him off, but I guess he probably would've been in a hurry.”

Okay, this next part is gonna take some very careful wording. She already knows her answer, but she wants to show her total support of David's freedom to fuck other people. It helps knowing he didn't actually do it, but the idea still leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, because it's entirely possible there'll be another place, another time, and David won't say no. She can't stand in his way again. Supportive just-a-friend is what we're going for.

“So did you sleep with him again?”

Alright. Okay. Completely messed that up, but okay.

David looks scandalised, eyes flicking from side to side like they might turn and find an impressionable audience listening in, instead of the severely uninterested clump of campers that populates the room. “Gwen!” He clears his throat, lowering his voice. “Please be careful! I would hate for any of the campers to think that sort of thing about our founder! Or… or me,” he adds, sheepish anxiety on his face. God, he really has no idea how precious he is, does he? Genuinely worrying about the campers thinking he's their boss’ fucktoy, it's just adorable.

Gwen forces a grin, trying to emulate the goofy one David sometimes has. "Just asking. I wouldn't be surprised if you had. Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't ask you."

David's eyes flicker away, a faint blush rising on his face. "Well, actually..." She has to force herself not to lean closer. "He, uh.. he did."

Gwen, actress of our times, feigns shock. "Really? And you didn't go?"

He shakes his head, a soft smile on his face. "He was very understanding."

"Understanding?" Holy shit, David's practically opening the door for her. "How'd you manage to talk him out of it and get away with your job?"

David briefly checks around the room, making sure none of the kids are listening, which, of course, they aren't. Beyond Max's own weird little obsession, none of the campers give a fuck about his personal life. Just in case, he lowers his voice. Gwen has to lean closer to hear it, and this is already one of the better mornings she's had. "He invited me to visit, and I explained to him that although last time was very, um, nice," the blush on his face seems to redden, "I thought it would be better for both of us if we kept it to just the once."

"And he was cool with it?"

"Well, I told him that you and I had talked it over a lot before deciding."

Ah. That explained why Cameron remembered her name. The way David is, he probably unintentionally gave Campbell the impression that Gwen was more than just a friend. That explains his threatening reminder.

An aching throb rushes through her chest at the thought. "Well... I'm proud of you." She smiles, pushing her food around on her tray.

"Proud?" David tilts his head, and Gwen's reminded of a puppy.

"Yeah. Y’know, for turning him down. I've been in that position before and been a lot weaker, so you did good."

She can see the curiosity flash across David's face, but he shakes it off. "Well, when you put it like that... Thanks, Gwen."

Every time he says her name, it's like walking from shadow into sunlight, sudden warmth washing over her skin.

"No problem."

 

* * *

 

 

There's no relief like something that was horribly wrong going back to normal.

With David back to his usual sunny self, the camp goes back to running smoothly. By their standards, anyway. Gwen's attempts to be a better counselor had taken a lot out of her, but she can't quite bring herself to go back to being the resident sourpuss. Even if it's as small a change as stopping herself from scowling at everything, she feels like David could use the support.

There's one, tiny, nagging cloud hovering over her parade, though.

She has no idea whether David can see it, because if he does he's not giving any indication. It just feels like something's still unresolved. Like she hasn't apologized enough. Like maybe David hasn't truly forgiven her. Or maybe it's just because she hasn't forgiven herself. Maybe that's it- David's forgiveness of her came so much easier than her own, she doesn't feel like she deserves it.

It's the nagging feeling that there's still something they need to talk about. But David's acting like everything is okay, so Gwen follows his example.

Now, ever since that last scary stories night, Gwen had taken a little time to read up on some truly skin-crawling stories. Max's dismissal of her romantic yet tragic story, snuffed out before it could truly begin, pissed her off. She wanted to make that little bastard scared.

So the next night, Gwen gives David a hand in collecting kindling for the little campfire by the lake in preparation for the first scary stories night since then- her suggestion. David hadn't been exactly comfortable. In fact, he'd been visibly nervous, and Gwen had gone through an internal war over letting him off the hook or continuing to see him with wide eyes and biting his lip. Again, she can't seem to say no to herself. Plus, David seemed happy she was joining in at all.

A couple of the kids opted out, choosing to go to bed early and read or play contraband handhelds or whatever else kids do. Roll around in the dirt maybe.  But Nikki was all for it, which meant Neil was dragged along, which meant Max was coming, whether he liked it or not. Perfect.

After dinner, nearly bedtime, and the sun begins to set. Gwen had offered to take over the kids’ shower time while David lit the campfire, and when she finally showed up with a group of pyjama'd children (again, her idea. The sun set pretty late, so this way they could go straight to bed afterward. A couple of them had even brought some sleeping bags) she found David, sitting on one of the logs acting as benches and watching the moon rise over the lake. For a brief second before he turned to look at them, Gwen just stared. She couldn't see his freckles in the low light but the way the reflection of the fire sparkled in his eyes almost made up for it.

He turns to them with a grin so blinding that she wonders if he'd just swallowed the setting sun. "Evening, kiddos! You ready for a night of spooky, scary stories?" He wiggles his fingers at them, his grin attempting to be menacing.

Some of the kids just look at him, blank. "David's not telling the stories," Gwen adds, and _then_ a couple faces get worried.

They clamour for spots around the campfire, and Gwen takes a seat on the other side, opposite David. Technically, it's so they can keep an eye on all the kids at once. It does kind of give her a chance to look at him some more, though.

Nikki practically bounces in her seat, Neil half hidden behind her and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. His occasional glances towards the dark, jagged shape of spooky island remind Gwen of exactly why he's so uneasy. Maybe Max will have some associated trauma, too. Awesome. He doesn't _seem_ affected, but by the end of the night, Gwen's going to see that scowl turn into terror if it kills her.

"Everybody here?" David checks, counting off the campers. Gwen nods.

"The others are all in bed, I made sure." A few kids had refused to attend unless space kid didn't tell any more stories. It was easy enough to convince him to promise he'd keep quiet. He's one of the most suggestible kids she's ever met, which is mildly worrying.

"Thank you, Gwen! So, would you like to begin?" he offers.

Gwen pauses, looking at the campers. "Actually, you know what? Why don't you go first?" Might as well get some false security going on.

Just as David opens his mouth, Max cuts in. "You said he wasn't gonna be talking," he growls, looking accusingly at Gwen.

She shrugs. " _You_ wanna go first?"

"Alright. Here's a scary story." Max clears his throat. "Once, there was this kid who was fine with spending his summer anywhere but here, but on the first day of summer his parents told him he was going back to the shittiest place on earth and now he's sitting in the dirt next to two incompetent ‘adults’ and being forced to listen to _stories_. The end."

David frowns. Gwen grits her teeth, protectiveness telling her to snap, but she keeps her cool. "Nice try, kid, but your little sob story doesn't mean shit to anyone else. We're all at the same camp you are, and no one's as much of a little bitch as you."

"Gwen!" David yelps. "Please, don't talk to the campers like that!"

"It's only Max," she defends.

David shakes his head. "Max is a camper too!"

She sighs. "You're lucky David doesn't hate you, kid," she says, scowling at Max's smirk. "But... Whatever, sorry."

The only thing that makes Max's smugness bearable is the grateful look on David's face.

"Alright, well, Gwen! I think everyone's kind of hoping that you'll be the one to tell the stories," he admits sheepishly, "so what have you got for us?"

Gwen's smile darkens. "Well."

And she begins.

The story Gwen chose is long, verbose, and descends into horror at a pace so even that she can see the way each camper’s face begins to change. She can see when they start to feel uneasy, when some of them start to feel scared. It swells her ego, makes her feel powerful. Even Max's scowl has dropped into something a little more blank, like he's forgotten to keep up that nasty little act.

The first time she read this story, it spooked her. Made it hard to sleep that night. That's how she knew it was perfect, and by the looks of it, there won't be a lot of sleeping at the camp tonight, either.

Near the end, she glances up at David. Even in the warm light of the fire, his face is pale, his eyes far away. He's holding a twig, twisting it nervously in his fingers over and over. Like this, he almost looks like he could be one of the campers. He looks _young_ , vulnerable. She wants to stop talking and wrap him up in a blanket. But she's so close to the end, she can't stop now.

The ending is her favourite part. The twist. The moment when she can see pure horror dawn on the faces of all the kids around her, on David- even Max is quiet, eyes cast down and unusually unfocused.

When she’s done, Gwen folds her hands in her lap and turns to gaze out over the lake, purely for effect. A minute of silence passes, until David clears his throat. "A- alright, campers. It's getting late, and I think that's enough for... a lifetime. Why don't we all head off to bed?" His voice cracks on the final word, and Gwen bites the inside of her cheek to stifle a grin.

No one makes a move to leave. "Guys?" David repeats.

Space Kid turns to him, reaching out to take hold of the hem of David's shorts. "Can you walk us back?" he asks quietly.

"Oh. Of... of course." David stands up, and Space Kid reaches for his hand. His other becomes claimed by Preston, of all people (who she didn't take for much of a scaredy cat but there he was, shaking like a leaf), and Gwen's face softens when she notices that behind all the kids gathering around David, Neil's hand finds Nikki's. Those two are worlds apart and yet whatever they've got going seems to work. It's pretty cute, Gwen has to admit.

Max's hands keep to themselves, jammed deep into the pocket of his hoodie, but when they start walking he's shoulder to shoulder with Neil’s other side, and that's how they walk until Gwen can't see them anymore.

She's alone with her thoughts and the crackling of the fire. The story doesn't affect her. Much. She's read it too many times, practicing to herself in her room so she wouldn't mess up. A few stumbled words aside, she managed to keep it pretty smooth and haunting the entire time.

The surface of the lake is as still as it ever gets, no other camps out on it at this hour. Even pirate camp wasn't running any night sailing. The moon's reflection ripples slightly, gently swaying from side to side like a lounge singer in a haze of smoke. She could've been a lounge singer. Crooning in some smokey little bar buried beneath street level in a sequined red dress with lipstick to match. She used to sing, but what's the point of singing lessons if you're too afraid to let even your own mother hear? Granted, that mother was critical and pushy. By the time Gwen had gathered enough confidence to sing in front of anyone, the career path was closed to her. Not that it was really anything beyond a daydream. Maybe this was always her path. Unloved extra to a cast of misfits.

She takes a deep breath, inhales the taste of woodsmoke, and releases it slowly. The noise of a fire, crackling in the night air, has been soothing for Gwen since sometime during her first year here. It wasn't that she liked campfires, particularly, but whenever the kids went to bed and Gwen could finally drop the smile and enjoy the silence, there was also the campfire in the background, burning itself out. It became almost Pavlovian in the way she now associated it with peace. During the colder months, when she's back in her little shitty apartment with only the faint roar of the city to keep her company, Gwen will admit to falling asleep to the sound of a campfire, wired through her noise-blocking earphones. Once or twice. A week.

Her reverie is interrupted by the sound of footsteps jogging towards her at an alarming rate. Instinctually, she tenses up, possible situations flashing through her head, but then David appears, walking calmly towards her, obviously trying not to pant.

"Did you _run_ back here?" Gwen asks as he takes a seat on the same log as her, a few feet of space between them.

"No," he casually replies.

"I heard you running," she points out, and David pauses.

"I... Okay, yeah. I left my lantern with Preston and it's- it's really dark out here!"

"Aw, that's sweet. Giving your lantern to the campers even though you're just as much of a baby as them."

"Hey! I just didn't want to, uh..." David trails off. If he was trying to convince her, he apparently wasn't that into it, because he just looks embarrassed.

Gwen chuckles and picks up a stick from near her feet, unable to keep still. She's antsy, being alone with him, and she needs something to occupy her hands. She pokes at the fire and they both watch a billowing cloud of sparks ascend into the warm night air and fade.

"Where did you even hear that story?" David quietly asks, eyes on the fire.

"Online," she explains. "On a subreddit for scary stories. It's one of the best ones on there."

"It certainly left an impression on the campers..."

Gwen shrugs. "They'll be fine. I already got over it."

He peers at her, and she has to resist the urge to turn her head and meet his gaze. "How come it didn't scare you?"

She laughs. "You kidding? First time I read it, I didn't sleep at all the rest of the night. I had my fucking lamp on, even."

"Oh." Silence. "How'd you stop being afraid?"

"I just read it over and over till it stopped being scary." Her eyes flick towards David's boots, distracted by the movement of him digging them into the dirt.

"Are you always that good at facing your fear?" he asks softly.

"God." Gwen leans back as a sigh crawls through her, starting behind her sternum and gathering like a snowball as it rolls down to her diaphragm. "I _wish_. If it was always that easy, maybe I wouldn't be such a mess."

"Yeah..." David toys with a trampled leaf he picked up while she talked. "Me neither."

This actually startles her, enough that she turns to look at him. "You? Seriously? I kinda figured you were more the 'charge headfirst' kind."

He chuckles, shy. "Well, maybe sometimes. But there's plenty of things I don't know how to tackle." The smile on his face is so small, the look in his eyes so far away, that Gwen has to look at him just a moment longer before she can bring herself to look away. The light of the fire suits him, a warm colour to his warm personality. It just makes her look orange.

She desperately wants to ask what he means. What could possibly be too daunting for the man who, one year, charged into a burning mess hall to rescue a camper- okay, technically only the couch was on fire, but it was still pretty brave. She can't picture David scared to do... anything. The only time he's ever needed help was-

Her stomach tightens. That night they talked, after Lisa. When he drank half a pack of ciders just to get the words out.

Well, not the only time. But the last time, and the time that sticks in Gwen's mind the most.

She pushes at the fire, trying to ignore the way her stomach feels full of rocks with stale regret. A charred hunk of wood slips over, and another cloud of sparks billows out from the impact.

"I'm really, really bad with words when it comes to emotional stuff," David suddenly admits, unprompted, and panic races through Gwen's nerves. Whatever comes next, it's going to be difficult and it's going to be awkward. For both of them.

"Yeah?" she manages to choke out.

"Yeah."

And that's it. For two minutes, that's it, and every silent second between them is like bugs, crawling all over her skin.

David's voice is so quiet, barely above a whisper. A sigh. "Can I ask you something?"

Gwen nods, and she can barely hear over the way her heart is pounding in her ears. "Course."

David hesitates. "I've been... thinking, a lot. About a lot of stuff, you know? But some of the things I need to think about really depend on your next answer." Gwen nods again, a vice around her throat. "So I guess what I'm asking for is your honesty. It's really important to me. So, uh, Gwen..." He swallows, and Gwen's having an out of body experience, so tense her tendons are going to snap and curl up and leave her face down in the dirt with no way to drag herself back up. "What Lisa said. About you. You remember?"

She nods stiffly. She can't look at him, but his tiny breath is so loud.

"Was she right?" Gwen's frozen, but before the flint can strike the steel in her head David rushes to explain further. "I'm not asking you to say it! I- I just need a yes or no. Please. Just give me something."

This is... it. This is the point where Gwen can no longer hide, where her flimsy masks are stripped away and she's shoved into the open.

She could lie.

Oh, she definitely could.

But after all she's put David through, after all the lies she's told _herself,_  she just doesn't have the _energy_ to lie anymore. Her face feels warm, almost burnt from the fire. Beneath her skin, every inch of her sings a distress call. She stands on the threshold of a door she locked herself, and now David's handed her the key.

She takes a breath and turns it.

"I think so." The words seem tethered to her soul. She can feel it leaving with her breath, floating in the air between them with nothing to protect it. She's put herself in David's hands.

He smiles at the dying fire, disconcertingly relaxed. "Thank you."

Gwen's breath does not return to her. It doesn't feel like it's allowed to. _Thank you_ is not an answer, not a reaction she can build off of. At least, if only for David's pleasant manner, she's not devolving into a panic attack.

She clears her throat, just to try and stop it from continuing to collapse in on itself, but David's head tilts towards her. "I'm sorry, I'm probably confusing the heck out of you, aren't I?" He smiles. "I really appreciate you telling me the truth. I just hadn't really thought this far, and now I don't know what to say. I need a little time to sort out my head, if you're okay with it."

Gwen doesn't know what that means. Does he return the feelings? Was he just looking for confirmation that Gwen is a problem he needs to get rid of? She's seized with the urge to grab him and demand an answer- hell, beg even- but she stays where she is. Her fingernails dig into the log she's sitting on, and bark chips off under her nails. "That's fine," she manages to croak. "Whatever you need."

"Thank you, Gwen."

She opens her mouth to say _don't do that, don't say my name with all that soft tenderness unless you really mean it because every time you do it makes this harder to bear_ -

But nothing comes out.

Something touches Gwen's hand and she nearly jumps, nearly squawks. David's pinkie is pressed to hers, the smallest point of contact but every single ounce of energy and focus Gwen has is suddenly narrowed down to this brush of skin on hers. His hands are warm, always are. He's got a sun for a heart, she's pretty sure, and it spills out of his eyes and his smiles and soaks through his skin like a blessing to the darkness around him.

She looks at him, but he's not looking at her, and she's grateful. If she turned her head and met his eyes, Gwen might actually have fainted.

His hand moves closer, sliding over the top of hers, and he squeezes it before pulling back. Gwen's chest aches with the raw _want_ for him to repeat that. For him to never let go. She never realised how touch-starved she’d become. She was fine for so long, she thought.

"We should get some rest," he suggests, standing up. Gwen watches him as he retrieves a small bucket of water from back near the bushes and dumps it over the waning fire, snuffing the light with a sizzling hiss. The darkness is soothing, like a weighted blanket on her shoulders.

The dark silhouette of David pauses, angled towards her. "Are you... thinking of staying out here?"

Gwen makes a noncommittal noise. "I'm not sure."

David's outline shifts from one foot to the other. "Well, if you're planning on going back to the cabin, do you... do you mind if I walk with you? It's just- that story you told..."

Gwen's face finally breaks free from the terrified expression it had seemed glued in and she smiles. The tension is beginning to dissipate, the atmosphere feeling a little closer to normal. "Seriously?"

"Ah... I'm sorry." David's silhouette runs a hand through its hair. "You're right, it's stupid."

Gwen snorts, getting to her feet. Her legs are shaking, but they're probably good for the walk back. "Didn't I just tell you about spending the night with my lamp on? Come on, let's go."

"Right!" David falls into step beside her, and they begin to walk back, dirt crunching beneath their soles.

"I kinda want to go scare Max again before we go to bed," she murmurs thoughtfully as the ring of tents comes into sight, barely discernible.

"I... can't really condone that," David replies, his hands twined behind his back. "Seems kinda mean..."

"Yeah, but do you remember that time he put gum in my hair and you had to cut a bunch off?"

"Yeah?"

"I never got him back. He deserves this."

David chuckles. "That really bothered you, didn't it?"

"Of course it bothered me, David, that's my _hair!"_

She can't see the look on David's face but the amused, slightly concerned tone of his voice is good enough. "If you want to go, I don't know, check on the campers, I suppose I can't stop you from doing your job. But, ah... don't scare him too bad, please."

"I don't know why you still like that little shit so much."

David makes a humming noise. “He just reminds me of me.”

Gwen narrows her eyes doubtfully. "You and him couldn't be more different if you tried.”

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye with an unreadable smile. “You think?” He looks back to the tents. “I just know there's a part of him we're not seeing. Something he loves, something that makes him feel good about himself.”

“I dont know, you might be reading into it pretty far there..." Gwen says doubtfully.

"It's just a gut feeling," David concedes, "but I think after all these years I'm right _sometimes!”_

"Sometimes, maybe." She grins, even though he can't see it. "You go on ahead, and I'll meet you at the cabin."

They part ways, and David heads to the counselor's cabin. The lights inside flick on, and Gwen takes a moment to gather her frayed nerves.

Padding softly over to Max's tent, she circles around to the side she knows Max sleeps on. Gentle murmurs come from inside, hushed conversation between he and Neil. Gwen's smile stretches wider. She holds her breath for a moment.

With a hiss of Max's name, Gwen swipes her nails along the canvas, creating an abrupt scratching noise that's immediately followed by two high pitched yelps from inside.

Something thumps to the ground, and she hears Max angrily growl "What the _fuck?"_ A moment later he bursts from the door of the tent, shining his flashlight in Gwen's grinning face. _"Gwen?"_ Neil emerges, cowering behind him, and Gwen has to lean her hands on her knees to stay upright with the force of her stifled laughter. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You don't traumatize kids enough already?" Max growls.

"Sorry, sorry," she gasps. "I really couldn't resist. Now we're even."

"Even?" Neil gripes. "You made Max fall out of bed!"

Max turns around and kicks him in the shin. "Shut the fuck up, I did not!"

"I just came to tell you no more talking," she snickers. "Go to sleep."

"Yeah, right," Neil mutters behind Max, limping slightly. "Like we can sleep after that story."

Gwen raises an eyebrow. "It's just a story."

"Fuck you," Max replies. "Go suck face with David, or whatever you do at night, fuckin' creep."

Gwen sighs. "I _wish._ " Maybe her tongue is a bit loose, but she's riding the adrenaline high of her talk to David and _especially_ the touch of his hand.

Max's eyes widen, and his sour mouth curves into a grin. "Wait, really? Oh, man, I can't wait to see the look on his face when I tell him."

"Nice try, kid, he already knows." The words are surreal to say. David knows how she feels. There's no reason to hide it anymore. It's so unnervingly freeing.

The fact that Max seems cut short by that is a plus, too. "Uh... Okay, that's…” he trails off, looking at her like he can't quite figure out the joke. “How about you go away anyway?"

"Are you gonna sleep?"

"Do you care?"

"Not really. Hey, um, sorry for scaring you, though. If it helps, once you actually think through the story a bit more, there's a bunch of plot holes that make it hard to really be scared anymore. Maybe you guys can find some."

Max looks at Neil, then squints back at Gwen. "Whatever. Get lost. Wait-" he takes a step forward. "If you tell David what happened, I'll cut your throat in your sleep."

"Why do you care what David thinks?" She smirks, and Max ignores her.

"Come on, Neil," he growls, shouldering his way back into the tent unnecessarily aggressively.

Gwen trots back to the cabin and slips inside.

David, sitting at the desk and flicking through one of Gwen's novels, immediately shoves it away. "How'd it go?"

She grins. "He screamed and fell out of bed."

"Oh, dear," David sighs, but she can tell he's struggling not to smile. "I hope he's okay."

"He's fine," she dismisses, "he's got Neil. Oh, you wanna know the best part? Right before he want back to bed he threatened me not to tell you."

Confusion washes over David's features. "Me? Really? Why?"

"My guess is, he doesn't want you to think less of him. The kid cares," she singsongs.

David's face glows, the most adorable thing Gwen's seen since the last time it did that. "Awww! Oh my gosh, Gwen, that's so sweet!"

"Don't tell him I told you, though."

"Of course not! Your secret's safe," he promises, making a zipping motion across his mouth.

A yawn bubbles up in Gwen's chest, and she stretches her arms above her head. "Anyway. I'm exhausted, in every sense of the word. I'm going to bed, okay?"

David's face is suddenly oddly blank, like he's lost in thought, and immediately Gwen's sleepless curiosity kicks into overdrive, but she doesn't push it. Tonight's been a big night, in a couple ways. She hesitates, wondering if maybe she should do something special. Squeeze his hand or kiss him on the cheek. But no, he hasn't actually said that's okay, has he? Right now, they're still just... just coworkers. Just friends. But the bitter spikes in her heart have been replaced with something closer to hope, and she can't keep the smile off her face.

"David?"

David snaps out of it and looks up. "Right, yeah! M- me, me too. Goodnight, Gwen! Sleep well!"

"Never do!" She cheerfully waves, disappearing into her room.

That night, Gwen is the first to fall asleep in the entire camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mean girls voice* David what the fuck, you can't just ask someone if they love you
> 
> Me: subtly adds my own little hint of Max/Nikki/Neil


	12. Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's normal, normal, normal. Everything's the same.  
> So... What next?

The next day, everything is different.

Except for the part where it isn't.

When Gwen trudges into the mess hall, desperately in need of some caffeine, all it takes is a glance around to see she's not the only one. The room is subdued and quiet, many of the campers poking sleepily at their breakfast.

David looks up as she steps closer, his regular sunny smile in place but the bags under his eyes slightly more pronounced than usual. "Good morning, Gwen!"

"Hey, sleepless beauty. What's with everyone today?"

David chuckles. "Do you really have to ask?"

"Guess not," she smirks, taking a seat beside him. He's already gotten her breakfast, and she pulls the plastic tray across the table towards her. "Maybe we need to have napping camp sometime today."

"Yeah," David starts, then breaks off in a yawn. "That might be a good idea."

With a bit of caffeine in everyone's system and David's annoyingly chipper voice like cold water to wake them up, the campers manage to get through the morning and into the activity of the day. David did a little schedule shuffling last night, and instead of abseiling (one of David's favourites) they'd be doing something a little more low-key. Card-making camp! Also one of David's favourites, but that's really not saying much when almost every activity is one of his favourites.

A few of the campers take to it like ducks to water, commandeering the stamps and embossing powder. Gwen's not so sure about the level of small, pointy tools or glitter allowed in this activity, but David insists it'll be fine.

Which, naturally, it isn't. There's going to be glitter in everyone's hair for the rest of the summer, most likely, and after an hour of trying to sweep it up into some kind of isolated corner David and Gwen collapse onto the ragged little couch pushed against the wall. The campers are enjoying themselves, though, and for David that seems to be enough. Gwen brushes her hands, watching sparkles flake to the ground. "The next time you think _glitter_ is a good idea-"

"I know, Gwen. Sorry."

"You better be. This is like arts and crafts herpes." David shoots her a look, presumably to tell her to stop yelling "herpes" in front of a bunch of children, and she rolls her eyes.

They sit there and watch the campers cut shapes and glue and paper and stamp every inch of paper and skin available.

Gwen's long since zoned out when she feels a pressure on her shoulder. She turns her head and gets a faceful of red fluff, barely stopping herself from inhaling it out of surprise.

David's head rests against her shoulder, his eyes sliding shut.

Gwen's heart skips a beat.

She licks her lips, going still. Her first instinct is to ask if he's okay, but she doesn't want to disturb him. It's like having a butterfly land on you and trying not to scare it off. She looks at him out if the corner of her eye. His chest is lazily rising and falling, and she can just barely hear the subtle rush of his breathing. With his hair practically shoved in her face, she can smell the shampoo he uses, something sweet but with a touch of one of those 'guy' flavours- 'black ice' or 'mountain breeze' or 'an axe' or something. And on top of it all, there's a smell Gwen is intimately familiar with- hairspray. Specifically, the hairspray she and David share. She grins. This man is such an odd combination of feminine and masculine, and on anyone else it would probably be terrible but somehow it works for him.

She takes a breath, inhaling so deeply she can almost taste it. It's weird, right, smelling someone? That'd probably be weird. But he's dozing on her shoulder and no one’s looking, so…

His presence is so warm beside her. Gwen wants to melt into him, but the movement might startle him awake, and she'd rather sit here until her muscles calcify than end it early.

Her eyes scan the room, a learned habit by now, and she locks eyes with Max, smirking at her. It's (as always) a good thing that her blushing doesn't tend to show, because something about his stupid little face burns her up inside. She bares her teeth at him and his smirk gets wider. He looks away, distracted by something Neil says and Gwen wrinkles her nose at him before looking back at David. Gingerly, she winds her arm around his waist, praying the movement doesn't bother him.

As soon as her fingers brush his side, David shifts, taking a breath, and she snatches her hand back, fingers curling in disappointment. He drags himself upright, arching upwards and yawning. "Sorry," he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. "I didn't mean to start falling asleep."

"It's fine, I barely noticed," she lies.

He pats at his hair, trying to  persuade it back into the upright position, arms inside the ride at all times. It's still slumping a little, but not too noticeably, and he smiles. "Alright, how are they? Behaving?"

Gwen glances at the campers. Nerf is hoarding the scissors, holding them between his fingers like wolverine and swiping at anyone close to him, but they're safety scissors anyway. Other than that, the only problem might be space kid eating glue. "Yeah, they're fine."

"Good!"

She expects him to move, maybe get up and check if anybody needs help or at least put some space between them, but he doesn't. David stays put, his ankles crossed, his elbows on his knees and his thigh brushing hers. Its ridiculous, honestly, how easy it is for Gwen to get worked up now. Their _knees_ are brushing and it's still warm, still bare skin, still sets her pulse racing.

Maybe she's just being ridiculous. Maybe she should just... go take some alone time. She hasn't done that in a while, actually, but there's still something in the back of her mind that whispers the truth. It's not her. It's him. It's the fact that David's so close to her, so... himself. Achingly gorgeous and he still carries himself like he's nothing special.

Warmth coils in her stomach, reaching down her legs and creeping up her spine. _Stop it,_ Gwen snaps at herself.

David sighs, his fingers tapping against his cheek.

_Seriously, it's not even sexy. Stop._

"You know," David hums, "Maybe you're right."

Gwen jumps, slightly. More of a surprised twitch. "Say what?"

"About having a nap. A lot of the kids look really tired, and I..." He trails off sheepishly.

"Oh. Oh, right, yeah. I guess I could kinda go for some time out." Not that she's tired. But she could use the time to take care of some personal matters. She could really, _really_ use it.

Once the activity has stretched out to its breaking point (a.k.a. the point where David's tired enough to start stumbling over his words) Gwen finally takes over. "Alright, I'm sick of this, you're sick of this, everybody go get some rest before lunch," she directs, and the campers gratefully abandon their projects, filing out of the hall like little tired zombies. David and Gwen bring up the rear, leaving the mess for later. Neither of them can be bothered, and if even David's too tired to complain, he needs to be in bed _now_.

She shoves David in the direction of their cabin and stands there with her arms crossed till he leaves. Once everyone's in a tent- theirs or otherwise, Gwen doesn't care- she follows.

David's hovering by his doorway when she arrives, which is honestly a surprise. He looked ready to drop. Still does. "Uh, hey, Gwen?"

"What's up?" She nudges the door shut behind her with her foot.

David hesitates, his eyes darting between her and the wall. "I..." His shoulders slump, barely perceptible. "I was just going to say thank you for your help. I'll- I'll wake you up for lunch, if you're not already up, okay?"

"Oh." There's a stale feeling in the air, on her tongue, something awkward and sour. Disappointment. "Yeah, sure, that's... that's fine."

For a moment, they stand there, and it feels... fragile. And then David disappears into his room, taking a piece of her with him. Gwen sighs, rubbing at her temples. Her heart hurts, and her body is warm, and she's just a big mess. An amalgam of emotions she's tired of feeling.

Gwen's room wasn't built with a lock. She'd actually had to go into the tiny warehouse in town and find a simple latch lock and install it herself. Moments like these are exactly why.

She sits down on the bed, reaching down to unlace her boots and slip them off. She can't be bothered actually changing, but she's not about to wear shoes in bed. Reaching into her drawer, she slips her hand under a magazine and retrieves her vibrator. She has about half an hour. Plenty of time, maybe even time enough to go twice, she's wound up enough.

It's been a while since she's done this, but it's not the first time her thoughts have strayed to the man on the other side of the wall. Even before her heart started to tag along; he's a male, almost her age, not bad to look at. Hell, she can't deny that it crossed her mind within the first week she was here. Fantasies need a face, sometimes.

It's different now. It’s not just harmless fantasy with the closest available male. If it were, Gwen's lower half wouldn't have tightened at the thought of his smile. It's not just because he's a guy anymore. It’s because he's David.

She closes her eyes and focuses on keeping her noises stifled.

_David, David, David-_

 

Gwen's eyes drag themselves open as a shrill chirping cuts through the air. She must have fallen asleep after that last one. She groans, fumbling to turn the noise off. She hadn't actually meant to sleep- the alarm was just in case she lost track of time- but now her hair is mussed, her shorts undone and her shirt untucked.

She manages to push herself to stand up, goes to do up her shorts-

And pauses.

She... has an idea.

Maybe it's kind of shitty, but it’s not like she's actually wearing anything revealing. It's just her camp uniform, only... a little roughed up. David probably won't even care, but it's still a little risky, and apparently this has been the summer of taking really idiotic risks, so what's one more?

So she waits, sitting on the bed and scrolling through her phone until a gentle tapping knock sounds against the door. "Just a sec," she calls. She looks down at herself, her heart fluttering. This is fine, right?

Her tongue skates across her lips, her mouth dry. Maybe she should... push it a little further. It’s not like she's never gone braless around him, but usually that's just her pyjamas. Pyjamas aren't sexy.

She's running out of time.

Frantically, a last minute decision, she reaches under her shirt and undoes the clasp of her bra, pulling the straps out through her arms and tossing the whole thing onto her bed. David probably won't even notice. This is stupid.

Her heart is racing as she opens the door.

David stands there, already looking perfectly pressed, his hair fixed up back to normal. "Hi!" He smiles at her, and Gwen can actually pinpoint the moment his attention wavers. His eyes dart down, and a wash of pride goes over Gwen at the way his grin falters. She resists the urge to smile. She must be a real sight, and if the shock in David's face is anything to go by, he thinks so too. She hopes. There's always the chance it’s just disgust behind that shock.

Immediately, his eyes snap back up to hers. "I- I was just checking you were awake!" He laughs, visibly nervous.

Gwen shoots him an easy smile. "Yep, I'm up. Give me a minute to get my shit together." She yawns, stretching her arms into the air.

David's carefully looking anywhere but her, and his smile is just a tad strained. "A- alright, well, when you're ready, why don't you come on down to the mess hall? Lunch should be ready soon!"

"Sure thing," she hums.

David shoots her an uneasy smile and leaves the cabin a bit faster than he'd normally. She's surprised he didn't wait for her, actually. Unless she was making him _uncomfortable_.

Gwen grins, her heart skipping. This doesn't feel like such a lost cause anymore.

The nap seems to have done a world of good for the campers and David alike. The spring is back in his step as he herds the kids into the mess hall, and Gwen can't help but notice the slight flush at the tip of his ears.

With that extra energy, that afternoon's wood-carving class goes about as well as you'd expect. By dinner, Gwen's already mentally drafting a letter to Campbell to petition for the removal of wood carving from the activities list. What idiot thought a bunch of kids could handle knives?

David, probably.

After patching up the multiple shallow cuts on several of the campers, pulling more splinters than she can count, and narrowly avoiding a stabbing, Gwen's _done_ for the day. She skips dinner to have some peace and quiet in the cabin, curled up with her latest book.

After lights out, David returns to the cabin. Gwen looks up when he steps inside. "Everything go okay?"

"Everything's fine!" He smiles, holding out a little plastic plate. "Um, I know you said you weren't hungry but you can't just not eat, so..." He looks down and then back up. "Y’know, dinner!"

'Not hungry' had just been Gwen's excuse to skip dinner, but if she was honest she was starting to regret it. She has trail mix and protein bars and whatever- technically David's stash, but he forced a couple on her for emergencies- but this is much better. Not only is it real(ish) warm food, _David_ brought it to her. A few weeks ago, he wouldn't even _look_ at her.

She sits up, taken off guard by the offering. "Oh, wow. Uh, jeez, David, you didn't really need to go to all that trouble."

"It's not trouble," he shrugs. "It would've been thrown out anyway."

That, she knows, is a lie. Camp Campbell regulations state that as much as possible, food is to be reused. They do follow this, within reason. Some things can stand up to a night of refrigeration. The rest, not so much, but the Quartermaster seems happy to repurpose most of it into… bait, they think. David claims for fishing, Gwen suspects for bears and/or hitchhikers. She takes the plate from him, hoping her gratitude shows through. "Thanks. Really, I mean it."

David smiles, shifting from foot to foot. "It’s really no problem, honestly!"

She looks down at the food, still warm (did he microwave it right before coming back?) and pauses.  She stands up and sets the plate on the desk. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" he asks, his brow creasing slightly.

She gestures awkwardly at the plate. "Just gonna grab, uh, some. Utensils."

He slaps a hand to the side of his head. "Oh, shoot. I knew I forgot something."

"It's fine," she soothes. She hadn't wanted to point it out, not with how thoughtful he'd already been. "I'll be ten seconds."

"Well, wait, hang on!" David ducks into his room and emerges with a little set of plastic cutlery, swinging together on a plastic carabiner.

"Why do you have those in your room?"

"They're my personal camping ones!" he explains, displaying them proudly. Gwen eyes them. They're purple, and not in any way fancy, and perfectly David.

"You sure? I mean, the mess hall's right over there."

He shakes his head. "Your food'll be cold! Seriously, go ahead. They're not getting much use out of me right now."

"Well... okay." She takes them from his outstretched hand and picks up her plate, carrying it back over to the armchair. "You wanna watch something?"

"Uh," David tilts his head, thinking. "Sure. What did you have in mind?"

She shrugs. "Something sit-commy. _How I Met Your Mother,_  or _Friends,_  or something."

"That's fine with me!" He flops onto his own chair as Gwen sets up the last episode she can remember watching.

The food is a relief to her aching stomach, and David's quiet laughter is a relief to her soul. She could fall asleep like this, curled up in front of the TV with a full belly and David's grin beside her.

She could, so she does.

The TV is off when a touch pulls her back to the waking world.

"Gwen?" David gently calls. His hand is on her shoulder, gently squeezing it. "You should go to bed. If you fall asleep here, you're going to regret it in the morning, trust me."

"Nnh..." Gwen sits up, and a blanket falls from around her shoulders to pool in her lap. Her eyes flicker up to him, confused, but he's just smiling gently at her. "Um... okay," she rasps, still only half awake. She gets to her feet and finds her door more on muscle memory than anything else.

"Goodnight, Gwen," David calls from behind her. She lifts a hand in a lazy wave.

"Night. Lo-" she catches herself just in time. "-ater."

There's a time and a place for telling someone you love them for the first time, and half asleep in front of your bedroom door isn't it.

If David notices anything out of the ordinary, he doesn't comment, and Gwen's last hazy thought as she crawls into bed is that her mouth touched a fork David's mouth has touched, and now she has his cooties. She falls asleep with a grin on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwen's such a shit flirter. Recipe for flirting: yell herpes, look rumpled


	13. Maybe Next Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen's just going to have to get over him. Nothing's going to happen. He doesn't want her.

The week goes on, and everything feels almost back to normal. Except, for Gwen, the persistent feeling of a thread left unpulled. Maybe David's just completely oblivious to the tension, or maybe he genuinely forgot. Maybe this is his way of letting her down easy. Just pretend everything is normal and eventually she'll get the message through her thick skull.

Maybe she's the only one who sees any significance in the tiny glances and brushing touches.

At the end of the week, David pulls her aside, anxiously wringing his hands together. “Gwen, I was thinking a lot lately about all those dates you set me up on,” he begins.

By now, Gwen's stomach must be ripped from all the tightening its been doing. “Yeah?”

“And, I thought about how unfair it is that you were always doing everything for me, but never for yourself. So I- I went ahead and arranged something for you. For tomorrow night.”

A ball of electricity crackles through her chest, lightning charring everything inside to pieces. She supposes this was inevitable. And David must feel like he's doing the right thing- clearly he doesn't return her feelings, so he's trying his best to help her move on. It's admirable, actually. A lot more noble than she could ever be. “Oh?” she manages to wheeze, and David nods.

“It's a blind date, with someone I know. I'm _really_ sure you'll like him, so… will you please go? For me?”

She wants to scream, and cry, and throw herself down for the first tantrum since she started puberty. It's not fair. It's not fair that she loves him and he doesn't love her. It's not fair that despite this, he's such a good person that he'd actually try to help. It just makes him more goddamn lovable. He's perfect in all the stupid little ways she could never be, and no one else could measure up. “Of course.”

 

David helps her pick out her outfit. Gwen smiles and nods and says all the right things, and she couldn't care less. He fusses over her like an older sister, and it's for his sake she makes the effort to apply her makeup. If he thinks she's doing her part to get over him, he'll be comfortable around her. Gwen's beginning to wonder if that's all she'll ever get, if she can live like that. Her _good buddy,_ counselor David. CBFL’s. The sad part is even if she can't, she will. She'll grasp at every straw he offers because she's too poisonous and weak to do anything else.

When she's beautifully prepared and feeling rather like a centrepiece, David steps back and looks her over. “Perfect,” he smiles, and the hollow girl smiles back.

 

He drives her. It's after lights out, and the Quartermaster has more than proved himself capable for an evening. Gwen insists she can drive herself, but David's adamant. He wants to make sure she gets there safely and finds him, he explains. It's fine. He fills the silence with idle chatter and Gwen spends a lot of the time peeking at him out of the corner of her eye, the man having changed out of his uniform and into something a little more casual.

“What's he like, anyway?” she asks when they're not far away. Might as well get an idea of what she's heading into. “You haven't even given me a name or anything.”

David chuckles. “He'll want to introduce himself, if I know him. Don't worry, you'll be able to find him easy. I told him to bring a purple carnation!”

Gwen snorts. “I'm gonna meet a guy at a bar holding my favourite flower? A little cliché, isn't it?”

David frowns slightly, his head tilting towards her but his eyes steadfast on the road. “Is it?”

Her mouth twitches in a humourless smile. Five minutes away from a date, and her heart only flutters at that pretty expression of his. She switches topic. “How do you know this guy, anyway?”

“Oh! We went to highschool together!”

She waits for him to continue, but he seems happy to leave it there. She sighs. “I'm a little nervous,” she admits, and it's not exactly a _lie._  Just a very small, select part of what she's feeling. David glances at her, so quick she nearly misses it.

“Don't be,” he hums warmly. “I think you'll have fun.”

 _That's a lovely thought, David, but it's utterly wrong,_ she thinks. This evening will be tolerable at best. She's already drained just from getting ready.

“I,” David smiles sheepishly, “I'd like to give you a pat on the arm or something to make you feel better, but I don't want to take my hands off the wheel. Um, would you mind…?”

Gwen raises an eyebrow. “What? Giving myself a reassuring pat?” she asks, disbelieving.

“Yeah! I do it to myself all the time! It can be very helpful, I think you'll find.”

She groans. “Is this one of your smile exercises?”

David grins. “One of them.”

“Fine.” She reaches up and gives herself an exaggerated, dramatic pat on her shoulder. “ _There, there._ ”

David laughs. “Alright, I may be an idiot but I know sarcasm when I hear it!”

“Who said you're an idiot? I'll fight them.”

“ _You_ did,” he retorts, but there's no hurt in his voice.

“Did I? Shit, guess I gotta fight myself.”

David's shoulders tremble with his laughter, and he smile is so wide she can see the corners of his eyes crinkling in the passing waves of light from the streetlights. He's going to have some serious laughter lines when he's older, and for whatever reason that's oddly attractive. “See? I told you it'd make you feel better! And look,” he flicks on his blinker, “we're here already!”

Every ounce of Gwen's happiness abruptly shrivels up. “Oh, cool.”

“I'll find a parking spot and walk you in.”

“You don't have to do all that,” she protests weakly, but David shakes his head.

“It's fine! I'd like to say hi anyway.” He parks carefully and expertly, and they get out. “You go on, I just need to get my jacket,” he smiles, shooing her towards the entrance.

Gwen walks forward a few feet, her pulse fluttering in sick anticipation. Maybe they should've chosen somewhere else. The last time she was here, she stood on this sidewalk with David's phone and set herself up for failure. But where else is there to go in the dinky little town, unless she wants her date watching strippers and eating five dollar steak and shrimp?

David joins her, shrugging his jacket on. “Shall we go in?”

Gwen nods. Her throat feels tacky and tight. She's going to need something strong to get through this.

David steps forward, reaching out to hold the door open for her. She steps inside. It's dim, but not overly so, and warm. Dark. Like a coffin. She scans the room, checking out every male in the bar. Some of them are sitting at tables, chatting to people. No purple carnations there.

Her ears prick up at the sound of a deep chuckle, and she looks towards the bar. A man is leaning over the counter, a drink in his hand and chatting with the bartender. He's tall. Dark hair, brushed stylishly back. Perfectly groomed stubble on a sharp jaw. He takes a sip from his drink, and as his head tips back he notices Gwen, standing like a deer in the headlights. He sets his glass down on the bar, fingers poised attractively around the rim, and his tongue pokes out to swipe along his bottom lip. He smiles at her, a toothy grin.

But there's no flower.

Gwen blinks, frowning. The guy is smiling at her with a smoulder like a burning building, but there's no flower. “Um, David?” She turns, dragging her eyes away from the stranger's gaze. “Is that guy-”

David looks up, pulling his fingers away from the ruffled, purple petals of the flower in his hand. “Um,” he says.

One by one, each of Gwen's organs forgets how to exist. Her mouth opens but there are no words forming on her leaden tongue. Her throat collapses in on itself, and her lungs no longer function. She would dearly love to breathe, but if she breathes, she might wake up and lose this. Lose this moment. Because this can't be real.

David smiles nervously.

As the rest of her body falls to the clutches of shock, Gwen's heart picks up the slack, kicking into overdrive. It's going to break her ribs from the inside, going to burst right through her chest and hit someone, and David just keeps smiling at her, toying with the flower in between his fingertips.

“I- I'm sorry it's a little squashed,” he apologises, reaching for her hand. “It's been in my jacket for a while.”

She's not currently in control of her own body, she's a ghost in a meat suit watching this happen from outside herself. She offers no resistance as he slips the stem into her hand and curls his fingers over the top of hers, closing them around it. His fingers stay clasped to hers.

He swallows. “Gwen?” Her eyes flick between the flower and David's anxious face. He chuckles faintly. "Too cliché?"

Gwen shakes her head. "I- I just can't think of what to say yet," she breathes. "I'm just- I'm so, so- David, what is this?"

"A- a blind date?"

"I mean what is this? Is this seriously- you're not kidding? No one's gonna step out with a camera and tell me it's some messed up prank?" She catches her lower lip between her teeth, staring down at the flower, at his hands over hers. "Is this _real?"_

"...Yeah. It is." His fingers flutter against her skin, sliding to curl around her wrists. He's shaking. "I- I'm sorry it...took this long. But I appreciate you being patient." Gwen must have taken too long to reply, because David gently tugs her hands, coaxing her to follow him. "Come on, let's sit down, okay? I'll explain, and we can get something to drink."

Gwen lets him lead her over to a table in the corner, and when they get there he drops her wrists to pull the chair back for her. He's not making a great case for the whole "this isn't a dream" argument.

Gwen languidly turns the flower over in her hands. It's real, and surprisingly fresh, but David didn't leave the camp all day, and when he did he didn't leave her side long enough to buy it. "Where did you get this?" she asks. Hell of a question to start with, but she's grateful she can get out any words at all.

"There's a florist a couple streets over," he explains. "I got it yesterday!"

"How'd you keep it fresh?"

"It, uh, it was in the fridge," he sheepishly admits.

Gwen shakes her head like it might shake the more important words loose. "Oh my god."

"What?"

"It's just a really _you_ thing to do," she snorts.

He grins. "I hope that's a compliment!"

"You wouldn't think so, but... yeah." She dips her head, sniffing the faint, delicate scent.  "Is this really for real?" she asks again, because there's no way. David's not interested in her. David is sweet and stupid and he doesn't belong to her and he never will.

Her spiral is halted by hands, reaching across the table to gather her own and hold them, his skin warmer than hers like it always is. He turns her palms upwards, the backs of her hands resting on the wooden table, and begins to ghost his thumbs over the lines. He draws mirrored circles in the soft skin, and Gwen shivers. "I'm sorry you had to wait for me. I'm pretty slow to catch up, and it took me a while to plan this."

Gwen swallows, resisting the urge to let her eyes flutter shut. "I just... need to clarify this one more time. This is a date."

"Yeah?"

"Between me and you."

"That's right."

"And this- I'm not wildly misunderstanding this? This is in the romantic sense?"

"I should hope so!"

She laughs, a little lightheaded. "Wow. I... Wow."

David grins. "I was originally just going to tell you how I felt, but, ah, it didn't feel...good enough?" He tilts his head, and Gwen's sharply reminded of a confused puppy. "You deserved something special."

She gives his hands a squeeze. "I don't, but... Thank you. You fucking _asshole_."

David leans back slightly. "Wh- what?"

"You totally tricked me! You had me thinking I was coming out here for a shitty date with some irritating stranger!"

He clears his throat. "Well, I'm not a _stranger,_  at least!"

She grins. "What the hell was with all the deception? 'I went to highschool with him’?"

"Technically, I did go to highschool with myself," he points out.

"You asshole. God, I can't tell you how much I wasn't looking forward to this when I thought it was gonna be, like, Gaston over by the bar." She jerks her chin in the direction of the handsome stranger, and David follows her gaze.

"I'm sorry! I was just trying to make it a surprise!"

"Well, mission fucking accomplished, I nearly fainted." Gwen takes a breath through her grin, dropping her head against the table. "Ohh, my god."

"Are you okay?"

She lifts it again. "Yeah, yeah. Totally okay, trust me. This is... You really blindsided me, you know? Or, I blindsided myself, or something. The point is, out of everything I ever thought could happen, this isn't one of 'em. I thought you were trying to help me get over you or something."

David glows, a blush painting across his cheeks. "Oh, gosh. You're making me blush," he chuckles, pulling a hand away to press it to his face.

"You? David, you surprised me with a flower and a date. I'm about to combust."

David opens his mouth, and whatever he's about to say is lost as a waitress interrupts. She takes their order- something sweet and nonalcoholic for David, and a fruity cocktail for Gwen. No shots. She's not looking to get drunk again.

Once they're alone again, she sighs. "David... why are you doing this?" Don't get her wrong, Gwen is... ecstatic. Giddy beyond belief. But this is something she needs to ask. She doesn't _understand_.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Her fingers shift against his, no intention behind the movement but the pure enjoyment of feeling it. All these weeks of staring, wishing, and now there's no reason to pull her hands away. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Her voice flattens, her eyes casting down. "I'm- I'm just... You can do better."

David gives her a glare, too soft around the edges to be real. "Hey, that's my best friend you're talking about! Actually, not just my best friend! My date!"

She shakes her head. "You know, I've always thought you were probably insane. This just kind of proves it."

"Hey." David tugs at her hands, prompting her to look up. "You gotta stop with the self-deprecation. We're here to have a nice evening together, and I get the feeling you've been doing a whole lot of beating yourself up lately."

Gwen smiles, dry and humourless. "Is it really that undeserved? After what I did?"

"Well... Okay, let me rephrase. I've been planning this speech for a week and right now I can't remember any of it, so bear with me." David clears his throat. "So. That stunt you pulled-"

Gwen tenses up.

"- I understand why you did it."

Oh. Not quite what she expected. "Pardon?"

"I get it," he repeats. "After what Lisa said, and thinking a lot of stuff through, it made sense. Don't get me wrong, though, it was also the stupidest thing you've ever done." Gwen grimaces, and David squeezes her hands reassuringly. "And I won't lie, I was really... upset. Confused, too, and having Lisa treating me like I was about to turn around and do something rash wasn't helping that. But that being said, I guess it kind of opened my eyes to a few things I've been... very oblivious about."

"God," Gwen groans. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I was such an idiot, like of all the fucking things I could've done-"

"Gwen, it's okay! We're past that, you've apologised, you don't need to anymore!"

She licks her lips, her throat threatening to close up. "I just wanted the time with you," she mutters, glad to be free of the words. They're bitter on her tongue.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that part out," David chuckles. Their drinks arrive, and Gwen's thankful for the chance to catch her twisting thoughts, taking a sip. "So, uh, how long?" David asks, casually as if he's making small talk. He acts like it too, swirling his drink with the little plastic straw, almost bashful.

"Oh." Gwen presses her lips together, and at the back of her mind a stray thought hopes she isn't getting lipstick on her teeth. "Um, since... It kinda started when you and Campbell, y'know."

David sits up slightly, eyes wide. "Really? Why?"

"Ugh..." Gwen keeps her attention on her drink. If she looks at David's face, his stupidly adorable face, she might forget how to talk. "It was just... you deserved better. And you were so happy and I was- I was almost kinda... jealous." The words escape her with an exhale, and one of the thousands of tiny weights on her shoulders falls away.

David's face twists in confusion. "So... why'd you keep setting me up on dates?"

Okay, she actually has to look up for this, otherwise her blank look won't properly emphasise her words. "David, I thought you were _gay._ "

"And I thought you weren't interested," he counters. "You think maybe we should communicate more?"

The good-natured sarcasm in his voice actually shocks her into laughing. "Gee, maybe. But then we wouldn't have gone through all that _fun!"_

David grins, taking a sip of his drink. His other hand reaches across the table to take hers again, like he's starved for contact, and hell, so is she. She could sit here with David's hand in hers for a night, a month, and it'd be the best thing that's ever happened to her.

"What about you?" she eventually asks, after an intense ten seconds of hyping herself up.

David swirls his glass thoughtfully, watching the ice spin. "Oh, I don't know. If we're being honest, I've always thought of you a- as gorgeous." He clears his throat, the blush that had been fading making a reappearance. "But I knew- I mean, I thought you weren't even the slightest bit interested. In fact, I was pretty sure you kinda hated me, so I just tried not to consider you that way. But then the whole thing with Lisa, and after she pointed it out and after _you_ told me, even, I guess I... let myself, if that makes sense."

He thought of her as gorgeous? _Her?_ The caustic brown girl who never wears makeup or does her hair or anything? Lisa had been the shining example of everything she wasn't. Pretty and pale, with a voice like a shining bell. That should be David's type, someone as pretty as he is. They'd have beautiful, china doll children with strawberry blond or deep chestnut hair. Family game nights and school plays and-

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it."

Gwen blinks. "How'd you know?" she asks, her brows knitting together.

"That's the same face you made the whole time I was mad at you," he says. "I'm not too much of an idiot to pick up that it probably doesn't mean good things."

She really doesn't deserve him, does she? "I'm still kind of in shock, I guess. That you're here. Not with her."

David tilts his head, thinking. "Would it help if I actually asked you on a date instead of surprising you?"

"What?"

He clasps one of her hands between his and looks her in the eye, wide and genuine. "Gwen Santos, I think you're pretty great and I want to take you out, if you're willing. What d'ya say?"

Gwen opens her mouth. Nothing comes out. Instead, her heart flutters in her chest, in her throat, and it's so unfair that even a joke like this should have her pulse spiking. She covers her mouth with a hand, turning away. "Oh, Jesus."

"I hope that's a yes, because we're kind of already here," he adds, and yep, that's it. Too late to stop it now.

Gwen is going to giggle and nothing short of the apocalypse is going to stop it. She tries to stifle it, but it's no use. It bubbles up through her chest, taking the heaviness with it.

David's face stretches into a wide, shining smile. "Now _that's_ adorable."

"No! Shut up!" she manages, her shoulders trembling with giddy laughter.

"Gwen, I've heard you laugh, but this- wow."

_"Stop!"_

His smile drops slightly, his mouth forming a tiny, surprised O. Gwen's giggling trails off, replaced with a spike of anxiety.

"What?"

"You're blushing," he breathes. " _Really_ blushing. Wowsers."

"Oh god." She yanks her hand back so she can press both palms to her cheeks. "Jesus, I'm sorry." Fuck, that's embarrassing. Giggling? Blushing? Get your shit together, Santos, this isn't highschool anymore!

He shakes his head vehemently. "No! It's... it's incredible," he sighs, staring at her with starstruck eyes. No one's ever really looked at her like that. Like she's the prettiest girl in the room. Usually, she isn't. She's the plain girl, the one who makes every other girl feel confident by comparison. David... makes her feel confident.

"It's just the alcohol," she tries to explain, to shift the blame.

David's a step ahead of her. "You haven't even drunk half. And it's not that strong, either." He's too smug, it's not fair. She needs to scrabble for some upper ground here.

"You're blushing too," she points out, and David waves it away.

"I'm an easy blusher!"

Gwen curses under her breath because he's right, and they both know it. She moves her hands up to cover her eyes as well, like maybe she can hide all her embarrassing traits behind her fingers.

David reaches forward, gently tugging her hands away. She offers no resistance, because how can she resist him? His fingers hover over her cheek for a second before the pads are pressing gently to the skin. "Warm," he hums, still with that same awe-filled tone. Gwen shivers as his fingertips drag down to her jaw, tracing the slight curve of the edge.  "You really are beautiful, you know..."

"Oh, jeez. Okay, I really should tell you now, don't expect much from me if you keep saying that shit. I'm really bad at taking compliments."

"That's okay," he laughs, "you just need practice! I'll help you practice _plenty_!"

Shit, he's perfect.

He raises an eyebrow. "Perfect? Me? I really don't think so..."

Shit, and he reads minds. Wait, no. She just said it out loud. Okay, never mind, David's not a mind reader, obviously. That would be crazy.

As stupidly highschool as Gwen feels, it's actually really easy to fall into a rhythm with David. It's just like back at the camp, when all the kids are in bed and it's just them in their cabin with a pile of sitcoms and romance novels and time to waste. Except he keeps touching her.

Gwen's not sure, but since he first reached for her hand, she hasn't spent more than a minute without some kind of contact between them. He keeps reaching for her, brushing his thumb across her knuckles, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears, walking his fingers along her arms. It's the most convincing factor for her, the biggest reason this feels believable. He actually likes her.

He laughs and jokes and smiles with that ever present blush on his face, and Gwen aches to kiss it. To kiss each freckle he carries around with him. Her throat tingles with warmth from the alcohol in her drink, and her tongue feels coated in saccharin flavouring. The dread from the ride here is gone, evaporated in the face of David's confessions. They swap stories, likes, fears, each topic opening the door to a thousand more. He's so easy to confide in, maybe too easy. It's part of what made her fall for him. He's so instantly trustworthy, and he's been like that from day one.

Time passes unfairly fast, and last call is announced. That's the trouble with small towns like this, nothing is open past midnight.

"Should we head back to camp?" David wonders, checking his watch. "It is getting kind of late." Gwen hesitates a moment too long before replying, and David frowns. "Everything okay?"

"I don't want this to be over," she admits in a small voice.

He smiles, gentle and reassuring. “Aw, Gwen.” he stands up, offering his hand. " This is only our first date!”

_There'll be more._

She takes his hand and doesn't let go until he needs to back to pay for the drinks, but the moment he's finished his hand finds hers again. He leads her out, into the warm summer night.

The car isn't far. She can see it from where they are. In her other hand she clutches the purple carnation, wilting slightly. Neither of them make a move to start walking.

David looks at her, then down at their joined hands. "Gwen... um." She holds her breath. "I... hope this isn't moving too fast, but I've- I've really enjoyed this evening, and I'd really like to kiss you." He looks up at her, all hope and innocence and perfection. "C-can I?"

Words failing her, Gwen nods.

He turns, angling himself to face her. The humidity of summer hangs heavily between them. His fingers brush the side of her face, and she can see his throat move as he swallows. It's not his first kiss. It's not hers.

But it's _theirs_.

She can tell he's nervous, just as nervous as she is. But if she doesn't kiss him, right now, right this second, every little puzzle piece of herself might just shatter. So she leans forward.

She shouldn't have worried. She shatters anyway.

And it's the best thing she's ever done.

He kisses with the same kind of chivalry he's been treating her with all night, close-mouthed and gentle. She can feel him trembling, though, feel it in the fingers that trace the shell of her ear.

Gwen's always been the type, with her partners, to put things into blast. It's not because she likes that, necessarily. But slow and sweet was never a popular theme with the kinds of people she tended to gravitate towards. Kisses were made to be hot and explosive and just a precursor to sex. But David's other hand rests gently on her waist, and he's not pushing, not in the slightest, not any more than she is. It's immediately addictive. Intimacy without the pressure.

She doesn't even notice herself moving forward until her chest is nearly pressed to his, and out of some kind of instinct the arm on her hip winds around her waist, holding her in place. Her hands splay on his chest, her racing thoughts slowing to a crawl. He smells nice. Smells like the cologne she picked out for him a lifetime ago. Something else, too. Just _him._

Maybe if she keeps kissing him, keeps pressing close, she can just melt and let him absorb her and live like that forever. She'd take that over being apart- being _herself-_ any day.

Her lungs complain at her, remind her that she needs more than David's lips to survive, as much as she disagrees. She turns her head slightly, unwilling to pull back, and their noses bump. They stand like that, two living, breathing statues, rapid pulses slowly settling.

"Wow," David breathes. The words rolls over her skin, prickling it, and Gwen can't help but agree with the sentiment.

A second, a third. They're all part of the one, really, one long kiss interspersed by the annoying need to breathe. His shaking hands ghost up and down her waist like they can't stay still. Her own are curled into fists against his chest. He's a living furnace, burning outside and in. She's almost too warm for the jacket she's wearing.

"We should get back," he murmurs eventually, the belated voice of reason.

Gwen makes a disappointed noise, but he's right. They can't stand outside of a bar making out all night. "I guess."

He unlocks the car and opens the door for her. She smiles as she climbs in, and so does he. They keep smiling at each other even as the little light fades away, leaving them in only the light of a streetlight across the road. Eventually, David remembers why he's sitting in the driver’s seat and turns the keys in the ignition. "Seatbelt," he reminds out of habit, and Gwen rolls her eyes.

"I know, I know." (Actually, she'd totally forgotten, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

The drive back is quiet, but it's a comfortable quiet. It wraps around them, a warm, dark blanket. Gwen watches the trees go by in the headlights, turns and leans her head against the window to watch the stars overhead. She'd like to hold his hand. He's too conscientious a driver to do that, though.

Gwen's mind strays down a darker path, thinking of other things she can hold that wouldn't require him taking his hands off the wheel, and by the time they arrive back at the camp she's lost deep in her thoughts, unconsciously biting her lip.

They creep through the campgrounds, feeling like teenagers sneaking home after a night out. Nothing's been reduced to a smouldering crater, so it seems like things went okay in their absence.

David opens the door to their cabin and flicks on the light, stepping aside to let her in. She reaches for his hand, already deprived of it from the drive. He smiles and tugs her closer, into another syrupy sweet kiss. Her arms loop around his neck and his around her waist, and every inch of her sings with the satisfaction of fulfilling a fantasy she's carried for so long. He kisses so sweetly, full of kindness and affection.

But as much as Gwen loves that, she's also not entirely as chivalrous as he is.

Carefully, she opens her mouth, just a fraction. Just enough for the tip of her tongue to swipe at David's lower lip, and he takes a sharp breath. The benefit of this, of course, being that his mouth opens to mirror hers.

One of her hands creeps upwards, fingers sliding into the short hair at the back of his neck. She presses further, pushing the kiss as much as she dares, and David is nothing if not accommodating. Slowly and surely the spark between them grows until the kiss is heated and borderline frantic. His hands are tight around her waist, and she wonders if he even realises he's doing that.

The back of his legs hit the desk (had they been moving? Did Gwen do that by accident?) but he doesn't seem to care. His focus is so completely invested in her that not even stopping to breathe is a priority anymore. Hurried gasping between kisses is doing just fine.

She can feel him. Where the heat inside him is pooling, vying for her attention, pressed against her hip. She takes a shuddering breath against his mouth. Fuck, her legs are going to buckle underneath her if she's not careful. She just- it doesn't feel real. She feels drunk, a lot drunker than she knows she is. She did that to him. He's reacting to _her._

She shifts her footing, the movement grinding her against him slightly, and he draws a sharp, shaking breath. "Ah-"

Gwen swallows the noise, pouring herself into the kiss. His fingers twitch against her, like they want to move, pull away or grab or both or _something_. She moans, low in her chest, and it accidentally tapers into a soft whine when the sound makes him twitch, hard enough for her to _feel_ it. Everything below the waist feels heavy with arousal, familiar emptiness aching inside her.

"Gwen," he gasps, but even _he's_ having trouble. His hands seem to make a decision, palms pushing gently against her hip bones. "Gwen, Gwen-"

She moves back, a fraction of an inch. It's all she can bear. "Yeah?"

He takes a moment, his eyes closed and his chest heaving. "I- I'm not... Please don't be upset, but c-can we wait?" he eventually manages, opening his eyes to look at her.

She licks her lips, still faintly able to taste him on her tongue. "Wait?"

"Y-yeah. I just- I'm nervous, and I don't feel ready but I do like you, please don't take it the wrong way, I'm sorry-"

"Calm down, hotshot. Breathe." David's mouth snaps shut. She slides her hands down his arms, back up to rest on his shoulders. "Look, if you're freaked out, we can stop," she sighs.

David nods. "I'm sorry. It's- it's not that I don't find you attractive, _believe_ me I do-"

"Yeah, I noticed that part."

He winces. "I'm sorry. I need to... I'm not ready. I hope you're not too upset." His hands leave her waist to gently cup her head on either side, looking at her with a pleading tenderness that breaks her heart.

"That's fine," she assures him, holding his wrists. "It's okay. You're right, maybe that was kinda fast. I can wait, don't worry about me."

He seems to relax, his shoulders slumping slightly and the concern leaving his face. "Thank you. So much. You're so wonderful."

"Nah. It's cool." She licks her lips. "But..."

"Yes?" he asks, worried puppy ears pricking up. Gwen licks her lips again and hesitates before quirking her mouth into a small grin.

"Before we stop, how would you feel about giving me something to think about when I'm in bed?"

It takes a moment for the meaning to reach his clouded brain, and the colour on his face deepens. "O-oh? Like... like what?"

Gwen smiles, walking her fingers up his sides, taking perverse enjoyment in the shudder it provokes. "Just... ten seconds. That's all. Give me ten seconds and I'll stop, and you can go to bed."

"...Ten seconds?"

"Mm hm."

"Ten seconds of what?"

"Just ten seconds," she repeats, her expression dangerously mischievous.

David swallows. "...Okay."

Gwen smiles with her teeth, and he can't help but feel he's made a deal with the devil. "Ready?" she purrs, and against his better judgement, David nods. "Good. Start the clock."

"Alright, uh. Ten..."

Within the blink of an eye, Gwen's arms are slipped under his, clutching tightly to his back, her fingernails digging in through his shirt.

"Ni-ne-!" he yelps, and her grin only gets more wicked. One of her legs lifts to fit herself more snugly against him, her knee resting on the edge of the desk. She's right there, right above him. A couple layers of fabric gone and he could just push in if he wanted.

The next number rides on the coattails of his shocked inhale. "E- ight-"

With a ragged sigh, she rocks her hips forward, grinding her clit against the hard outline of his cock, and David's hands practically spasm, flying back to grip the edge of the desk on either side to keep him from escalating this any further than it needs to go. "Seven," she reminds him, smirking.

"Ri- ight, ah- s- seven..."

Fuck. Fuck, he's really- _really_ hard. Gwen is going to bite clean through her tongue at this rate.

She rolls her hips again, a quiet but broken moan escaping her. She can actually feel him twitch, feel his pulse spiking hotly, and her clit echoes with a sympathetic throb of its own. _He's so close_ , her body keeps whispering (screaming) at her. _He's right there, he's hard, he could f u c k you-_

She shakes her head, pressing her forehead to his shoulder.

"Six," he squeaks.

It's the longest ten seconds of her life. It's torment, but she desperately never wants it to reach the end.

Scraping her nails down his back (she didn't mean to, honestly, she just wants wants _wants-_ ) she speeds up, rolling her hips hard and fast against him. Her legs are shaking, his too. His grips the desk so hard his knuckles are turning white, and his eyes are screwed shut. Anything to distract him, to get him through this without ruining those jeans.

"Fi -ii i aah hh-"

It's like scratching an itch with blunt fingernails. No matter how hard you try, it's _frustrating_. Gwen rocks herself against him, her cunt pulsing emptily. "Fuck, _David_ -!"

David whines in response, the sound muffled by his gritted teeth.

He forgets to keep count. So does she. So maybe, just maybe, it might be fifteen seconds, or probably closer to twenty. But a klaxon alarm is sounding in her chest, berating her. _Don't take advantage of him, he said he wasn't ready, you need to stop._

So with every single _fucking_ drop of willpower Gwen possesses on this earthly realm, she steps back.

David doesn't open his eyes right away. He's leaned against the desk, his knuckles bloodless and tightly clenched, his face strained, his legs shaking- and very, very hard. After a long moment, in which Gwen's self-control tries very intently not to be present, he opens his eyes to half mast and looks at her.

"Fuck, don't look at me like that," she growls, looking away. "I might not be able to keep my promise. Time's _up._ "

"S- sorry," he pants, struggling to get his breathing under control.

Her hands curl into fists at her sides and she steps closer. "I have to go to bed before I fucking fall apart. Come'ere." She yanks himself forward by the collar of his shirt and presses her mouth to his with a vicious intensity. He's putty, just along for the ride, trying his best to keep up, and after a heated couple of seconds she forces herself back again. "Goodnight, David."

"Good- goodnight..." he manages before she's gone, hidden behind a flimsy door doing who knows what (he knows, he _knows_ ) and David's left digging his fingernails into the underside of the desk and trying to calm down.

She pauses on the other side of her door, holding her breath. For a solid thirty seconds, there's no noise. Then footsteps towards his room, the clink of something hitting the floor (she can't help but imagine it's his belt) and the faint creak of David's weight settling into bed. A loud part of her is screaming to go over there and help him with _whatever he's doing_ but she takes a deep breath and sighs, dropping her head. He asked to take it slow, they'll take it slow. She can survive a few more nights with her vibrator.

She shrugs off her jacket and drops it by the door, heading for her bed. She's going to be tired in the morning- they both are- but really, who cares?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PLAYED Y'ALL HOWZAT
> 
> Really starting to earn that e rating, huh? I know this chapter's early but I was literally that excited.


End file.
